


Drinking Mercury

by Hatterized



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Zombie Apocalypse, Complicated Relationships, M/M, Non-Consensual Touching, Obsessive Behavior, Stalking, Unhealthy Relationships, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-18
Updated: 2018-10-03
Packaged: 2019-05-25 04:15:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 70,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14968892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hatterized/pseuds/Hatterized
Summary: Rick Grimes is in desperate need of a change of scenery. In an attempt to leave tragedy and trauma behind in his native Georgia, he and his children move to Virginia to start fresh, and it seems like he gets it in the form of a new job, new friends- and a handsome new neighbor named Negan. However, while Rick's enjoying his new life and slowly falling for the man next door, there's a lot he doesn't know- including just how deep Negan's obsession with him has become.





	1. Onward

The first time Negan laid eyes on Rick Grimes, he was gone.

It was a mid-September afternoon, all crisp air and dying sunlight speckling the ground through gaps in the leafy overhang of the trees sheltering the sidewalk, the last of autumn’s leaves clinging to their branches like children unwilling to be parted from doting parents.

And that’s just what Rick Grimes was, too: a doting parent, single father to a surprisingly well-mannered teenage boy named Carl and a feisty little toddler named Judith. A doting parent out on his own, looking to rebuild his life after it had crumbled away beneath him after his wife’s untimely death last year. The whole story came tumbling from Rick’s sinfully full lips in under two minutes right there on the sidewalk in front of his new house with the _Sold!_ sign still picketed in the front lawn and the empty U-Haul truck parked out front. When he was done, his cheeks were an intriguing shade of rosy pink, the color suiting him so fucking _perfectly_ that Negan had a hard time not reaching out to skim a finger over the heated skin, see how much deeper the color could turn.

“Hell, I’m sorry. I never was good at small talk. Guess that’s not a great way to get to know the new neighbors, huh?” Rick chuckled ruefully and ducked his head almost shyly, blue eyes glinting with playful mirth. “You wanna start over? I’m Rick. Nice to meet you.”

His voice- _goddamn that voice_ , Negan thought. Rick had already told him where he and his children had moved up from- “ _King County Georgia, where nothin’ much ever happens”_ \- but his accent would have betrayed his southern heritage even without his admission. Thick and sweet as honey dripped from his lips, and Negan craved a _taste._

He composed himself, though- _not a great way to get to know the new neighbors_ , as Rick had said. Instead, he held out a hand, taking Rick’s with a gratefulness that surpassed the gesture. It was only a handshake, after all. But it was skin on skin, all cold-nipped fingertips and palms warm with the nervousness that came from meeting someone new.

“Good to fucking meet you, Rick. I’m Negan. And darlin’- don’t worry about spilling like that to me. We’ve all got our stories, all got shit to get over. I’m glad you thought I was worth telling it to.” He gave Rick his most winsome smile, all roguish charm and dimples, and the man relaxed visibly, tense shoulders lowering beneath the cozy blue of his button-up, the worried crease between his startlingly crystal eyes smoothing out. _There you go, honey_ , Negan thought, _no need to be a nervous little deer around me._

Rick smiled, and it left Negan breathless. He decided then and there that Rick Grimes’ smile was something he would never tire of. It made the corners of his eyes crinkle in the most endearing way, his eyes lighting up. He fucking _glowed_.

“I appreciate it. Guess I’m just not used to talkin’ to people my age anymore aside from my realtor. Been spendin’ a lot of time with Judith and Carl.” He nodded back to the house that his children had already disappeared into- eager to see their new digs, no doubt. 

Negan suppressed a smile at that- _not used to talking to people his age…gotta be single_ \- forcing his face into a look of neutral concern. “Aw, Rick. You tellin’ me you don’t have people helpin’ you out right now? Je- _sus_ , sweet southern gentleman like yourself, I’d think you’d have friends linin’ up down the street to bring you casseroles and lending shoulders to cry on.”

A tender ache of sadness surfaced in Rick’s eyes, and Negan immediately wanted to chase it away. “Nah. Never been the best as small talk, like I said. I had a few friends down in Georgia, but I pushed a lot of people away after Lori passed. I was in a real bad place for a long time, and by the time I managed to claw my way out of it, I looked around and realized that I’d isolated myself from all the people that had tried to help me. Figured a new beginning was what I needed. The kids, too. Carl had been havin’ some problems at school, getting’ into fights and- shit, I’m doin’ it again,” Rick shook his head with a frown. “I’m not looking for sympathy here. I guess I just needed to get this off my chest more than I realized.”

Negan chanced a casual touch, one hand reaching out to rest on Rick’s shoulder. He gave it a friendly squeeze and felt the strength of the muscle there, hunger growing as he pondered what Rick would look like stripped of his tidy clothes. “Hey, none of that shit, Rick. What did I just say? I don’t fucking mind. It’s a damn shame that you’re all alone right now. I’m more than happy to listen.”

Rick smiled again, and after a long beat, Negan forced his hand to drop. “Tell you what, Rick. I’m gonna come by again tonight, alright? Bring you a damn casserole, feed you and the kiddos real good, like you deserve. Maybe a little somethin’ extra for the two of us, huh? What’s your poison?” He looked Rick up and down shamelessly and noted with great satisfaction how Rick squirmed a little under his scrutiny. “You seem like a whiskey man, am I right, or am I right? I’ve got this real nice bottle of Irish whiskey I’ve been waitin’ for a special occasion to break out, and this seems as good a night as any.”

Rick shook his head, and Negan felt his grin slip. _What? Why the fuck not? Haven’t I been the perfect fucking welcome wagon here-_

“That’s real kind of you, Negan, and I appreciate it more than I can say, but I can’t tonight. I promised Carl and Judith it’d be a family night, just the three of us. Carl’s not about to admit it to me, but he’s pretty damn nervous about startin’ at a new school halfway through the semester.” He gave Negan an small, apologetic smile, and Negan willed himself to let it go, running a hand through his slicked-back hair and tossing out a shrug that was much more casual and cavalier than he felt.

“Of course, Rick! You go nest up with your kids, I understand.”

Rick looked relieved, like he thought that Negan would be upset and was deeply happy that he hadn’t offended the one person he’d spoken to since his move. “That does sound nice, though. Real nice. And I’m sure Carl and Judith would appreciate someone else cookin’ for a change. I’m just about useless in the kitchen. Maybe over the weekend?” he asked, sounding hopeful. “You had me pegged- I am a whiskey man. It’d be nice to sit down and share a drink with someone. God knows I haven’t down that in a long time.”

 _Yes. Yes, yes._ “Fuckin’ A, Rick! Sounds like a hell of a good way to kick off my weekend. Here,” he said, holding out one hand, “give me your phone. I’ll put my number in so you can get ahold of me- I know I’m right next door, but I’ve got a feeling you’ll be needin’ it. You and me, Rick. We’re gonna be good fucking friends, I can already tell.”

Rick handed over his phone without question, and a dark, hungry part of Negan preened at the unspoken obedience. Negan pressed the button and a passcode popped up- of course.

“Oh, here, one sec-” Rick’s fingers brushed Negan’s as he took the phone back, and he was nearly so distracted by the touch that he missed Rick tapping out the code- _nearly_.

_4-2-1-0. Good to know._

Rick slid the phone back into Negan’s hand and Negan tapped the screen, bringing up the contact page, briefly glimpsing his starred contacts before adding his own number to the list- _Carl, Judith's Preschool, Carl's School, Realtor, Lori-_

“You still have your wife’s number in here, Rick?” He asked, suspicion running wild through his mind. _He’s still married, his wife isn’t actually dead, liar, liar, fucking liar-_

His accusations were immediately quelled by the sadness marring Rick’s pretty face. “Yeah. I’ve thought about deletin’ it a hundred times. I just…can’t bring myself to do it.” He swallowed hard, missing the way Negan’s eyes caught on his bobbing throat. “I used to call her sometimes. Used to…hell, there I go again.” He smiled sheepishly, tucking his phone into the back pocket of his jeans. “I know you said you don’t mind, but you don’t need to hear about all that today. Maybe some other time.”

“Maybe over a glass or two of whiskey,” Negan agreed.

“Dad!” A voice called from the porch of Rick’s house and they both turned to see a long-haired teenager- Carl, Negan assumed- standing in the open doorway. “You coming or what?”

Rick waved to Carl, calling, “I’ll be right there, Carl!” before he turned back to Negan. “Guess that’s my cue. Thanks again for…hell, for listening, and for the offer. I’ll be looking forward to it. I’ll let you know what day’s good for me soon.”

Negan nodded. “Sounds just grand. It was good to meet you, Rick.”

Rick smiled warmly. “You, too.”

He walked away then, a slightly bowlegged swing to his steps that Negan followed like a recited prayer, line for curved line from his calf to his thigh to his pert backside, hugged loosely by dark, worn jeans. _God_ , did he want to know what those jeans looked like pooled at Rick’s ankles, what those strong thighs looked like splayed wide apart and ready to receive when Negan wanted to give him.

Negan chuckled to himself, shaking his head and walking the handful of steps back to his own house next door once Rick had disappeared from his sight. _Take it slow_ , Negan warned himself even as he felt the beginnings of a ravenous obsession stirring in his gut. _You’ll have him soon enough. Give it a little time, you’ll see._

It was a good start, today. Better than he could have hoped for. The man had his number in his phone, and Negan’s fingers itched, constantly wanting to check to see if Rick had texted, wanting so badly to have his number as well. Access to talk to him whenever he pleased. He could find it for himself, of course. It wouldn’t be hard- truly, the internet was a blessed thing. But it would taste better if he got it right from the source, from Rick himself. And it would come- he just had to wait. Patience had never been a virtue of Negan’s, but he had to admit that there was a certain thrill to the chase at the beginning, the watching and waiting and wondering.

Yes. Yes, for now, he would wait, let Rick come to him. He had done his part, sought out an evening with him, and for now Rick would do the rest. It was Sunday evening. Rick had said the weekend…so Friday or Saturday night, he would be in Rick’s home. At Rick’s kitchen table with his children, laughing and making merry and showing Rick just how rightful his place beside him was. Oh, yes. It was nearly a week to wait, and again- Negan was not a patient man, but it would be worth it.

It would all be worth it.

* * *

Rick stepped into his house feeling accomplished- his first day in Virginia and he’d already talked to someone new, already had plans to spend time with someone other than Carl and Judith. It was exciting, unexpected- he’d assumed that he would be spending the first month or so adjusting to his new life here, his Friday nights limited to playing Call of Duty with Carl and watching Disney movies about talking dogs with Judith. At most, he’d thought that he might get invited out once or twice with his new coworkers at the farm, and if he was lucky maybe he’d click with someone and find a steady weekend friend.

But in came Negan, delivered nearly to his doorstep. Friendly and talkative, if a bit on the vulgar side, but Rick found that he didn’t find a few curses scattered among his sentences as long as he toned it down a bit when he dropped by for dinner.

“Who were you talking to?” Carl asked, peeking his shaggy head around the corner of Judith’s doorway, watching as his father lifted the girl into his arms and settled her comfortably on his hip. He knew he shouldn’t be letting her take naps so late in the evening, especially not when they all had to get up the next morning, but it had been a long day getting all of their furniture and boxes of belongings moved in, and Rick when had found her conked out on the couch, he hadn’t had the heart to wake her up.

“Next door neighbor. His name’s Negan.” Carl pulled a face, and Rick quirked an eyebrow at him. “What?”

“ _Negan?_ What the hell kind of name is Negan?”

“Language, Carl,” Rick said, giving a pointed look to the girl in his arms, and Carl heaved a dramatic sigh.

“So what did he want?”

Rick blinked. “He didn’t _want_ anything. He was out getting his mail and introduced himself. Just bein’ friendly. He actually offered to bring us over some dinner, but I had to turn him down. Family night and all. Told him it might work out this weekend.”

“You still should have let him bring us dinner,” Carl grinned slyly, “it’d have been cheaper than ordering pizza.”

Rick clucked his tongue. “We’re not orderin’ pizza tonight. I went to the store for a reason- got all the stuff to make burgers.” Carl gave a loud, pained groan, and Rick frowned. “What? You love burgers-”

“Yeah, I do. I love burgers. But when you make them, and no offence, dad- I don’t think I could call them burgers. I’m not sure what they are.”

Rick scoffed, a smile playing on his lips as Judith squirmed free of his arms and toddled across the floor to retrieve her favorite stuffed rabbit from where it had fallen to the floor. “They’re not that bad.”

“Dad, the last time you made burgers they were raw on the inside-”

“Medium rare-”

“ _Raw_ ,” Carl insisted, nearly laughing, “and the cheese was burnt. How you managed to burn the cheese-”

“Well, if it all goes like last time, I’ll let you order pizza,” Rick conceded. “How’s that? But it’s _not_ gonna go like last time.”

It did, indeed, go like last time. Two hours and several blares of the smoke alarm later, Carl had ordered two medium pizzas- one with pepperoni and one with bacon and bell peppers- and he, Rick, and Judith were all nestled into the couch watching Ghostbusters.

Family nights were something he and Lori had done for years, usually only once a month or so, but after she had died, they had become more frequent. With all of Carl’s lashing out after his mother’s death, Rick had worried that his son would pull too far away from him to be of any help at all, and the thought of losing Carl in any way, even emotionally, gutted him. So he’d held tight and fast, insisting on bi-monthly family nights where they shared a meal and a movie even when he knew Carl would rather be out with his friends or holed up in his room playing video games. There had been a lot of resistance at first, but it had slowly started helping, and little by little Carl had started healing.

Rick took longer to get better, and that was hard on Carl, too. It had been bad in the beginning, and he knew that if any of his friends at the time had known the full extent of his grief, he likely would have been hospitalized. And maybe that would have been for the better- maybe he would have gotten help faster, maybe he wouldn’t have ended up pushing nearly everyone he’d been close to away until it was just him and his children.

His phone suddenly vibrated in his pocket, and when he drew it out, he was reminded that he hadn’t pushed _everyone_ away, not completely. Fortunately for Rick, his longtime friend Hershel Greene hadn’t given up on him, even when he was at his lowest point.

Hershel and his two daughters, Maggie and Beth, were the closest things to family Rick still had outside of Carl and Judith. Hershel and his late wife had been close to Rick’s parents growing up, and he’d all but taken Rick in when they’d both passed in his early twenties. The Greenes hadn’t been exempt from Rick’s self-isolating behavior, but they had been the ones who had stuck it out and saw him through to the other side.

In fact, it had been Hershel that had suggested that Rick and his family make a fresh start somewhere. _“Too many sad memories for you here, Rick,”_ he’d said, _“it’s hard to heal when you feel like everything you’ve ever lost is staring you right in the face every day. You know me and the girls will miss you, but you’ve gotta do what’s best for you and your own.”_

Rick opened the text from Hershel, smiling at the old man’s texting, picturing him trying to compose a formal note like he was writing a letter, asking every question in sequence like he didn’t know Rick could reply instantly: _How are you settling in, Rick? Is Carl still worried about starting at his new school? Is Judith excited about her new day care? Met any of the neighbors yet? What does the house look like?_

Rick chuckled to himself and texted him back: _Settling in good, we’re having a family night. Carl’s worried, but he’s not showing it, of course. Judith’s just happy that I managed to find Flopsy bunny in one of the boxes, I don’t think she even knows what’s going on just yet. I actually did meet one of the neighbors. Seems like a nice guy, he offered to bring over dinner this weekend._

Hershel texted back almost immediately, and Carl huffed a quiet laugh beside him. “What’s that you’re always saying about kids these days on their phones at the movies, dad?”

Rick ignored the teasing and read the text: _That’s good. I’m glad you’re starting fresh. It’ll be good for you. Good to see you’re already meeting people there. I don’t want to hear about you isolating yourself again. I’ll be checking in with Carl. You need people, Rick._

Rick thought of all those long, lonely months he’d spent alone, how miserable and hopeless he’d felt. If he was honest, he’d felt the same way when he’d said goodbye to his home in Georgia- sad and terrified that he was waving goodbye to the last of his friends, the last memories of a life he so dearly missed. But today, meeting Negan…it gave him hope.

_Maybe I don’t have to be so alone after all._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God, I've been working on this since...jesus, last october/november?? It hasn't taken me that long to write it, I swear! I just got distracted writing a whole other longfic and a bunch of other stuff but I'm super excited to finally start posting this!


	2. Access

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much to everyone who read the first chapter! I forgot to mention that one of the things that inspired this fic was the movie The Resident in which JDM plays a stalker- if you like cliche stalker thrillers check it out for some nice stalker negan vibes!

Five days was a long time to wait.

Negan cracked only one day in on his lunch break, sitting at his desk and having already inhaled his tupperwared leftovers from last night’s chicken pot pie for one- a poor bachelor's dinner. He had a full hour for lunch, and normally it was something he relished, a much-needed and deserved break from the high schoolers whose teen angst was never left in the locker rooms.

Today, though, a mere ten minutes in, every second dragged by in a miserable  _tick_  that seemed to resound through Negan’s tiny office annexed beside the school gym. The sweat-and-rubber smell of the room seemed particularly potent today, and the thought of doing his usual routine of fucking around aimlessly on his phone flitting between Candy Crush and pretending to make way on that novel he’d been reading for the last six months sounded mind-numbingly dull.

What didn’t sound dull at all was doing a little prep work researching his new neighbor. He shouldn’t, he knew- looking everything up in one go like he knew he would if he allowed himself to so much as Google Rick's name would be like ripping open his presents a week before Christmas: initially satisfying, but leaving him with nothing to look forward to.

 _Although_ , he reasoned, there was only so much that could be gleaned from a quick internet search. A past job, maybe a handful of photos on Facebook if he was lucky.

Negan glanced up at the clock that hung next to the obligatory  _Hang In There!_  motivational cat poster that seemed to adorn every other classroom in the school. Forty-nine more minutes on his break.

 _Fuck it_ , he decided, tapping the screen of his phone.

A quick Google search for  _Rick Grimes, King County, Georgia_  unearthed a Facebook account and a three archived newspaper articles from the  _King County Chronicle_. The most recent one was from a little over a year ago, a brief obituary for one Lorraine Evelyn Grimes, wife to local sheriff’s deputy Richard Grimes and mother to Carl and Judith.

Negan’s eyebrows shot clear up his forehead.  _Sheriff’s fucking deputy_ , he mused, tongue between his teeth as he pictured Rick with one gun-holstered hip cocked and a pair of silver handcuffs dangling enticingly from his belt.  _Goddamn. My boy’s the five-o. Better be careful…I wonder if he transferred to the department up here?_

The other two articles were from almost five years ago, less than four months apart, and the headlines shook Negan to his very core with a furious, vengeful protectiveness:  _Local sheriff’s deputy shot on duty_ and  _Sheriff’s deputy back on the job after on-duty shooting._

 _Rick took a fucking bullet_ , he marveled as he devoured the articles.  _Shot by some guy fleeing town after a robbery...he's one tough motherfucker._

Next was Rick’s Facebook profile, which was woefully barren- not surprising. Negan had a knack for reading people well, and Rick hadn’t struck him as the social media type. No status updates at all, just a handful of shared articles, most of them from the  _King County Chronicle_ about local businesses and events. There were a spare few photos that Rick seemed to have uploaded all at once when he first made the account: a photo of himself and Lori on their wedding day, looking radiant and in love, and a couple of family portraits featuring Carl and a very young Judith. 

Only a small smattering of friends-  _plays his cards close to the vest, it seems_ \- and a select few of them posted things on Rick’s timeline: well-wishes and happy birthdays, innocuous enough. The most recent activity caught his eye, though. It was a single comment from a woman named Maggie Greene that read  _Beth and I miss you already. Pretty sure Glenn does, too, but I don’t think he wants to get mushy about it. Daddy says he already wishes he hadn’t talked you into leaving, he hates having to milk Big Marion on his own!_

Suspicion flared to life in Negan’s heart: Rick had told him he didn’t have anyone he was close to back home in Georgia, but this post spoke of not one, but  _four_  different people that were missing Rick’s presence only a day in. Frowning deeply, he clicked on Maggie’s profile, gritting his teeth when he saw her picture: young and beautiful with a smile made to melt good southern boys like Rick Grimes right into sweet, syrupy puddles.

_He was fucking her. That fucking liar, he has some whore back in Georgia-_

_Oh, wait._

Maggie Greene’s profile proclaimed her to be married to one Glenn Rhee, and quite happily so if her page was anything to go on. Photo after photo of the two of them together, and a search for the aforementioned Beth’s page revealed her to be Maggie’s teenage sister, closer in age to Carl than Rick.

Negan relaxed, letting out a deep, slow breath.  _Alright, he’s really single. Lied about not havin’ friends, but it doesn’t look like he’s fucking any of these people on here._

He took a quick moment to save the photos of Rick to his phone, cropping out Lori and the kids so that nothing would distract from Rick’s face. And it was quite a nice face, he thought- rugged in an oddly charming soft way with startlingly clear blue eyes and strong bone structure that left Negan wanting to rub his thumbs over the man's sharp, stubbled jawline. Maybe grab his face, feel the scratch of beautifully greying beard beneath his palm, dig his fingertips in just enough so that Rick’s full pink lips were forced to part for him while he gazed so helplessly and lustfully up at Negan…

Unthinkingly, Negan’s hand slid up his thigh to rub over the crotch of his pants, feeling himself beginning to harden at the thought. What he really wanted was a recent picture of Rick- everything on there was at least two years old, and the Rick in the pictures wasn’t a man he knew. He was a little more lined around the eyes now, the crease between his brows a little more defined, and the man in the photos was lacking the charming silver streaks at Rick’s temples and throughout his beard. In fact, the younger Rick was clean-shaven where his Rick was bearded, his hair cropped short where it was now long and curling wildly at the nape of his neck.

He found that he preferred him like he was now: older, wiser, something about him both harder and softer all at once. And certainly, his hair was an improvement from what he assumed to be the standard police crew cut Rick had sported before. It was long enough now that Negan could imagine his fingers carding through it, gently at first, rubbing down to Rick’s scalp to hear him purr at the soft touches, and then tightening, wrenching his neck back to expose his pale, vulnerable throat and hear the soft whine that he would  _surely_  make when Negan tugged at his chestnut curls from the roots-

The bell rang then, loud and shrill enough to violently jar Negan out of his waking fantasy. He was half-hard now and frustrated to boot, hardly a good combination to deal with two more full periods of high school angst.

It took a minute of cold-shower thoughts to wind himself down and then he was out of his office to greet his class.

“Alright, you sorry shits, you know the drill-” he started, only to stop short when he spotted a new-but-familiar face among the crowd of kids lining his bleachers- Carl Grimes. He grinned widely, pointing out his new favorite pupil with glee. “Well I’ll be damned! Howdy, neighbor! Guess I should’ve known you’d be showin’ up in my gym.”

Carl blinked, wide-eyed and clearly uncomfortable with being singled out like this. “Er- have we met?”

Negan chuckled good-naturedly. “No officially, no. Your daddy’s met me, though- I’m Negan.” Recognition dawned on Carl’s face at that- along with a flicker of annoyance at the word “daddy”- and Negan felt a giddy jolt of delight.  _Rick just have mentioned me._

“Class, this is Carl Grimes. New kid, straight outta Georgia. Be fucking nice to him.” Carl looked like he would have much preferred Negan to have kept his mouth shut entirely, but he’d learn soon enough that being on Negan’s good side was preferable to the alternative. “Right. Now, as I said before- you know the drill…”

* * *

“God!”

Rick heard the front door slam and Carl’s voice resounding through the foyer and frowned, abandoning the box of pots and pans he’d been unpacking to weave through the untidy sprawl of the downstairs to get to his son. “Carl? Somethin’ wrong?” He was stopped in his tracks by and angry blue-eyed glare half-hidden beneath long bangs that Rick kept trying to suggest they get trimmed. “What?”  _Oh, Christ, it's only the first day-_

Carl groaned, slinging his backpack off his shoulder and onto the floor. “You just had to go and make friends with my gym teacher, didn’t you? You couldn’t have just talked to the little old lady across the street.”

Rick cocked his head, confused.  _Gym teacher…?_  “What are you talkin’ about?”

“ _Negan_ ,” Carl intoned, “the guy next door? From yesterday?”

Rick nearly laughed, holding back only for Carl’s sake, and doing a poor job of it at that. “ _He’s_  your gym teacher?” The man must have dropped a choice word at least every other sentence when Rick spoke to him- he couldn’t imagine Negan, all tall, dark, and leather-clad, teaching a roomful of sweaty teenagers.

Carl’s eyes narrowed. “It’s not funny! He called me out in class today, made a big deal about me being his neighbor. Like being the new kid wasn’t bad enough.” There was a certain vulnerability in the way he ducked his head before yanking open the fridge and fishing out a pudding cup.

Rick sympathized- he could still recall was it was to be that age, all hormones and desperation to either be someone to follow or fly beneath the radar so that you weren’t a target. “I’m sorry. I’m sure he didn’t mean anything by it, though. Probably just wanted to make you feel welcome.”

Carl snorted, beginning his slumping trek up the stairs, dragging his backpack behind him. “He didn’t.”

Rick sighed. “Well, he can make it up to you on Friday when he brings dinner over. No more…burgers.” He knew he’d won when he saw the side of Carl’s mouth twitch up as he fought a smile.

“Whatever. He’d better be a better chef than you.”

Carl retreated up the stairs, eager for some solitude after a long day and calling back a  _“yeah, sure, dad!”_ when Rick told him to start unpacking his room.

 _Speaking of Negan_ , Rick thought as he walked back into the kitchen,  _still need to let him know Friday’s good for me._

He sent off a quick text:  _Hey, this is Rick. Friday night is good for me if you still want to bring dinner._  He’d just barely set his phone on the counter when it vibrated with a reply.

_Friday’s fucking great! Hope you and the kiddos like spaghetti._

* * *

The week rolled along at a leisurely pace up to Friday, with the few short hours between Rick coming home from work and Negan’s expected arrival flying by in a rushed whirl of activity as Rick frantically tried to unbox the last of their belongings- at least the ones downstairs, where Negan could see.

Negan arrived promptly at his expected hour of six-thirty on the Grimes’ doorstep, arms laden with a cardboard box filled to the brim with much more than the bowl of spaghetti and meat sauce.

“You gonna let me in, Rick? I’m like a vampire, darlin’- you gotta give me the go-ahead first. It’s just good manners.” Negan grinned broadly, al blindingly white teeth, and just like at their first meeting Rick was put slightly off-guard by how disarmingly charming the man was. He looked freshly trimmed and tidy for someone who dressed like a member of the Outsiders cast, leather jacket and slicked back hair. Rick blinked up at him and the box, collecting himself-  _darlin’? He’d never been called that by anyone but Lori._

“Yeah, of course, come on in,” he said, stepping aside and allowing Negan over the threshold. He led him into the kitchen, gaping at the heavy box of food the man placed on his counter. “Negan, you didn’t have to- it’s just dinner, really, you didn’t need to bring all that…”

Negan’s smile never wavered as he piled bags of snack food on the counter, followed by an unopened bottle of whiskey and a slim bottle of red wine. “Oh, but I fucking  _did_ , Rick. I promised you whiskey and spaghetti, and bringin' your host a bottle of wine is just good manners. Didn't want you thinking all us northerners are a bunch of brutes. And based on the stink eye your kid’s been givin’ me all week, I think I’ve got some sucking up to do before I get in his good graces. Figured a week’s worth of Doritos and Chips Ahoy would do the trick.”

A part of Rick was pleased at the gesture- Negan trying to make things up to Carl in his own way. “I’m sure he’ll appreciate it, but that’s not necessary. I’m sorry he’s been givin’ you trouble, I can have a word with him-”

“Hell no, Rick! He’s no fucking trouble at all. Just called him out a little too much that first day, I think. You know teenagers, don’t want kids knowin’ their daddies are all buddy-buddy with the teachers.” He dropped a wink in Rick’s direction and drew the container of spaghetti out of the box and onto the counter. His easy playfulness made Rick feel comfortable, relaxed, and drew out a teasing side of Rick he’d thought was long buried.

“That what we are? Buddies?” he smiled, and Negan’s hazel eyes flashed with surprised mischief.

“I sure fucking hope so, Rick. And if not…” he tapped the side of the whiskey bottle, “we will be after tonight.”

* * *

“So whatcha think, kid? Good stuff, right?”

Carl mumbled around a mouthful of spaghetti-  _really_  excellent spaghetti, Rick had to admit- before swallowing and answering Negan’s inquiry. “Better than the shit dad cooks, but that’s a low bar.”

Rick stiffened and threw a shocked look at his son. “Carl! Watch your mouth.”

Carl rolled his eyes. “Blame Negan. He swears in class.”

Rick turned to the man at his right, who looked both amused and mildly abashed. “Way to rat me out, kid,” he chuckled, shaking his head. “Sorry, Rick.”

Rick worried his lip between his teeth. “I…Negan’s an adult, Carl. He can do what he wants on his own time…”

Negan’s hand was suddenly covering Rick’s own where it lay on the kitchen table and Rick startled, not expecting the touch. He looked over into a pair of deep, apologetic eyes. “Really, Rick. I don’t want to get into the habit of teachin’ him that kind of language if it bothers you. I’ll knock it off.”

The genuine tone threw Rick off, sincerity dripping from every word, and all he could do was nod dumbly as Negan squeezed his hand and returned to his food.

Strangely, he felt a flush of heat creep up the back of his neck.

“So what do you do, Rick?” Negan asked conversationally as he twirled spaghetti around his fork. “You a stay-at-home daddy?”

Rick shook his head and took a bite out of the homemade garlic rolls Negan had brought. God, that was good- the only kind of garlic bread he'd ever made was the premade kind from the frozen food section. “Nah. Gotta put food on the table, you know? And keep myself occupied now that Judith's in preschool. I work down at Kingdom Farms off Miller’s Lane.” He caught Negan’s surprised look. “What?”

“You’re a  _farmer_ , Rick?” The man asked, voice colored with fond amusement that made Rick’s face grow warm.

“I, uh. I had a friend back in Georgia- more like family, really- that had a farm. That was what I did the last year I was there, basically worked as a farmhand for him, and he taught me everything he knows. The couple that owns the place I’m workin’ now are friends of his, he hooked me up with the job.”

“Hmm,” Negan hummed, “farmer Rick. Now ain’t that a picture. You always been a farmin’ boy?”

Rick shook his head, reaching over to Judith and wiping up a spill of sauce down her front. “Nah. I was actually a cop, if you can believe it, a deputy sheriff. Close to fifteen years on the force.”

He noticed that Negan didn’t seem overly surprised to hear that. “I figured it was something like that. You’ve got that protective no-nonsense shit-  _sorry_ \- down pat, Rick. What made you give it up?”

Rick dropped his eyes down to his plate and pushed some pasta around idly. He hated talking about why he left the force. Very few people outside of his immediate family knew- though he was sure his former coworkers had guessed- and he liked to keep it that way for a good reason. He met Carl’s eyes across the table and they shared a look, stiff and uncomfortable. “Just needed a change of pace, I guess. After Lori…the job seemed like too much of a safety risk, you know? I wasn’t about to do somethin’ that would run the risk of Carl and Judith losin’ me, too.”

It was a half-truth that Negan swallowed easily, and the rest of the dinner went off without a hitch. Negan had an easy way about him, an animated way of speaking and keeping a conversation going so that the awkward silences never lingered for too long. He even managed to engage Carl eventually, making him laugh with stories of how a couple of his more prideful classmates had just barely fumbled their way through learning volleyball last semester. “You keep that shit in mind if they give you any trouble, kid,” Negan told him as he swept around the table, clearing empty plates before Rick could think to move. Rick had stopped correcting Negan’s cursing around the fourth accidental “fuck” that he’d dropped- it was only a word, after all, and it wasn’t like Carl wasn’t already being exposed to it every time he was outside of Rick’s watchful paternal eye.

“Negan, you don’t need to do that,” Rick chided as he watched the man start soaping up their dishes. Carl had already ducked upstairs, no doubt to resume the game he’d been forced to pause to come eat dinner, and Judith was happily playing on the living room floor with a few of her stuffed animals. “You’ve already done so much tonight, let me-”

Negan wagged a single sudsy finger at Rick, shaking his head. “Let me take care of you a little while longer, Rick. I don’t fucking mind, believe me. It’s been a long time since I’ve had someone to cook for. Besides, it’s getting pretty late- you probably need to get that little angel into bed soon, am I right? Let me tidy this shit up and then you can come down and join me for a nightcap.” He tipped his head toward the bottle of whiskey, looking so tempting and ready to be cracked open.

Who was Rick to say no to something like that?

“Alright, alright,” he conceded, padding into the living room and scooping an admittedly rather tired-looking Judith into his arms. Her sleep schedule had been all out of whack since the move, and they’d talked much longer over dinner than Rick had anticipated. “I do need to give her a quick bath, if you don’t mind waitin’ a little while. Just this time, though. Don’t want you to start thinkin’ I’m a terrible host.”

Negan shot him a bright smile. “Wouldn’t dream of it, Rick. You take all the time you need.”

* * *

As soon as Negan heard Rick’s footsteps thudding softly upstairs and the sounds of water running, he cut off the sink. He’d get the dishes done, but  _first_...

Negan’s eyes flicked over to the kitchen table, where Rick had so unthinkingly forgotten his phone. He hadn’t planned on doing this, exactly- not yet. He’d memorized the passcode, of course, all but recited it to himself like a song until the numbers became second nature to him. He’d figured that he would have to get Rick’s phone off him later- maybe tonight if Rick got drunk enough- but there it was, practically begging him to come take a peek.

He dried his hands quickly and snatched it up, stepping off to the corner of the room so that if someone came down they wouldn’t catch him snooping. He tapped in the code, delighted that he knew it, those four little digits that allowed him the smallest bit of access into Rick’s life.

Rick’s phone wallpaper was a photo of his children, predictably. Carl and Judith’s grinning faces smiled up at Negan like little judging angels saying  _how dare you do this, how dare you invade his privacy._  He ignored them, going through Rick’s texts first. Not much there- a conversation between him and Carl that mostly consisted of Rick asking Carl if he was home from school yet, if he had gotten here or there safe.  _Sweet, overprotective papa bear_ , Negan thought fondly.

There weren’t a lot of messages in his inbox, which either meant that Rick had been extremely honest about how little contact he had with other people, or that Rick deleted his messages after a certain period of time. He checked the ones to Carl again- it only went about a week back.

_Damn._

There were a couple texts between Rick and someone named Hershel Greene- blinding jealousy immediately overtook Negan and he scrolled through the short conversation, his fears quickly quelled when Hershel called Rick ‘son’. So family, probably. Not a father, not with the differing last name, but perhaps and uncle or something like that. Hershel seemed to just be checking up on Rick how Rick was settling in after his move.  _Greene_ , Negan remembered suddenly-  _that's probably his friend Maggie's daddy._  On text in particular caught his eye- Rick had mentioned him.

_I actually did meet one of the neighbors. Seems like a nice guy, he offered to bring over dinner this weekend._

Negan preened a little- Rick thought he was a  _nice guy_. He’d thought that Negan was worth mentioning.

There was one message from Wednesday from the local pizza joint that informed Rick that his order was ready, and that was it aside from the most intriguing set of texts from none other than Lori Grimes herself, the date marked a little over a year ago- the only collection of messages older than two weeks. His last conversation with his wife, signed sealed and delivered via text message. Negan’s fingers burned as he tapped them.

It was a disappointingly innocuous set of texts, not overly surprising considering how often Rick cleared out his messages.

_Rick: Working late again tonight, I’m sorry. Probably won’t be home til past 8._

_Lori: I’ll wait up. Miss you. You’ve had to stay late almost every night this week._

_Rick: Wish I didn’t. This damn case. Miss you too, baby._

_Lori: You sure you don’t want to talk about it?_

_Rick: You know I don’t like bringing work home. I’m alright. I’ll see you tonight. I love you._

_Lori: Love you too, hon._

And that was it. So simple, so mundane, but Negan stared at the glowing screen until he was sure the words were tattooed across his eyes:  _Baby. I love you. Miss you._  Jealousy reared its ugly head again, this time for a woman long dead. Negan wanted to be the one saying things like that to Rick, to be the one waiting up for him to bring his work-weary body home, to make love to him in the dark of a shared bedroom between sheets that smelled of them both.

After the texts, he flitted around the rest of Rick’s phone, cataloguing snippets of information, making note of questionable names in his contact list, catching himself glaring and wondering if any were past lovers, trysts that Rick had given himself over to in an attempt to move on after Lori’s death. He had a couple of games on his phone, one that made Negan laugh- a princess dress-up game. No doubt that was to entertain Judith, but Negan chuckled to himself at the thought of Rick taking it for a spin, trying on pretty things. Negan wanted to put him in pretty things- silk boxers that would feel so luxuriously smooth against his most intimate areas, crisp dress shirts that fit nicely to his toned, muscular frame. Maybe, if he was lucky, if he was daring enough and Rick pliant enough beneath his will, he could get him in something else. In scant lace scraps that would make Rick blush so prettily as he insisted that,  _“but Negan, aren’t those for women-”_  to which Negan would hush him and insist that he was so beautiful that he could pull off such a thing. The thought of it, Rick in lacy black panties, his cock straining against the front, pulling them tight and allowing Negan to see the shape of it through the thin fabric, made Negan shudder, teeth sinking into his lip. He could get off thinking of that alone.

When the rest of Rick’s phone was exhausted, he allowed himself to dive into the part he’d been longing to see: Rick’s photos. He opened the app with an eager tap, eyes alight.

It was exactly what he’d expected: mostly pictures of Rick’s children, both ones like the phone wallpaper where the kids had taken Rick’s phone and snapped a few self-shots, and ones that Rick had staged and taken himself: a recent one of Judith on her first day at her new preschool, wonder woman backpack worn proudly, and one of Carl on his first day at his new school, looking annoyed and half-asleep. There were ones of them in front of their old house in Georgia, waving goodbye. They were sweet, and told a story of a devoted family man who placed his children above all else.

There were a few others- interior shots of their old house that Rick probably took for the realtor or potential homebuyers. Some photos of the kids on a farm, all green pastures and livestock. There was a particularly charming one of Rick and an old, gentle-looking man with a white beard and suspenders. It was the newest one of Rick on the camera roll, dated a couple weeks ago- just before the move. Rick was sitting on a low stool, milking a cow with a comically confused look on his face while the old man- Hershel, perhaps?- looked on with a hearty laugh etched into the deep lines of his face.

It was a good picture of Rick, goofy face or not. Negan tapped it and sent it to his own phone.

There were a few more from that day featuring the sisters that he’d already seen of Rick’s Facebook page: Maggie and Beth. Just like he’d seen there, they seemed to be familiar in a platonic way, the closest they got was arms around shoulders. No kisses, no deep stares.  _Good_.

He scrolled up a bit further, excited by the fact that Rick didn’t seem to clear out his photos very often, if at all. He sent a few more to his phone- self-shots that Rick had taken of his own face, looking gorgeous, if a bit open-mouthed and squinty. It seemed to be just how he looked in photos, a little bewildered, like he didn’t know why someone would want to immortalize his face in a photograph.

Negan could have looked at his face all fucking day.

He’d nearly reached to top when he froze, hands stilling and his whole body going rigid with utter shock when he spotted something up near the top of his phone, from well over a year ago. Negan gaped for just a moment at the thumbnail before rushing to enlarge the picture that had caught his eye.

It had very obviously been meant for Lori. Why Rick hadn’t deleted it off his phone, Negan would never know. Perhaps he just forgot it was there, buried under snapshots of his friends and children and wife. But there it was, in all its glory, waiting there for Negan like he’d been meant to find it.

It was another self shot, this time in a mirror. Rick didn’t have the open-mouthed look in this picture, though- he must have taken care to pose himself. His hair was a little shorter than it was now, just beginning to form curls at the nape of his neck, and his beard was trimmed down to a short stubble that looked profoundly less gray.

He was naked, his body on perfect display for Negan to see. And said body was just as perfect as Negan had pictured-  _no_ , he corrected, practically drooling onto the screen-  _even more so._  He’d already know that Rick was in good shape, had seen the muscle hiding beneath his loose button-ups, but he never could have predicted just how beautifully sculpted the man was beneath his clothes. His chest was firm and well-defined, his stomach flat and tight and just  _begging_  for Negan’s tongue to come lapping up from the v of his hips to his collarbones. His arms were strong and solid, biceps bulging just slightly in the mirror’s reflection, promising strength. His nipples were a rosy shade of pink, and Negan desperately wanted to tweak and tug at them, make them get hard and tight under his fingertips.

And his  _cock-_ it was goddamned  _perfect_. Rick was hard in the photo, dick standing stiff and needy against the palm of his hand, showing it off like it didn’t already demand Negan’s full attention. He was cut, the head a deep, aroused red that matched the bloom of color on Rick’s cheeks. It was gloriously thick, curving up against Rick’s toned stomach, probably just shorter than Negan’s own and nestled in a neatly trimmed thatch of dark pubic hair. Just below hung his balls, heavy and asking to be handled with tender care, to be gently cupped and fondled until Rick’s orgasm was being all but wrung out of him.

Negan was hard just looking at him, his own cock straining painfully and tenting the front of his pants.  _Fuck_ , he wanted Rick. Wanted to feel the girth of him stretching his jaw open, wanted to feel him twitch and dribble precome onto his tongue, wanted to feel him shaking and coming down his throat while he cursed and groaned Negan's name in that sexy-as-sin southern drawl of his. Negan would gladly swallow every drop he had to offer, wanted nothing more than to taste Rick’s release pooling in his mouth. The thought of spitting him out was abhorrent, as vile as the thought of coughing up sacramental wine _. Lori better have treated that body with every ounce of reverence it deserves_ , Negan thought savagely. Rick deserved to be worshipped like the treasure that he was. Anything less, and she deserved her fate. There was no way of telling now, of course- unless he could somehow worm the information about their sex lives out of Rick.

 _Ether fucking way_ , he thought as he sent the photo to his own phone-  _I’m here now. I’ll take care of him. I’ll treat Rick the way he deserves to be treated, give him everything, anything he fucking wants. It’s all his._

Negan was a touch disappointed to see that that particular picture was the only one of its kind. He’d been hoping to catch a glimpse of Rick’s ass as well, but maybe it was better like this, having something still left a mystery. It made the thrill of the chase more exciting, taking a peek of what he would be getting once he got Rick in bed- and he  _would_  get Rick in bed, of that had had no doubt.

The sound of water rushing through the pipes as Judith's bathwater drained alerted Negan that his time was running out. He quickly closed out the apps he’d opened and returned to the dishes, Rick’s phone now back on the table like it had never been touched. By the time Rick’s footsteps sounded down the staircase, Negan had placed the last of the plates in the drying rack beside the sink and had found two short glasses stashed away in a cabinet for their drinks.

Rick had water splashed down his front, a large spot of his shirt a handful of shades of blue darker than the rest. Negan eyed him with amusement, and Rick shrugged. “Occupational hazard of bathin’ a four-year-old. They just  _love_  to splash. Think it’s funny.”  He leaned across the counter on his elbows and Negan’s gaze lingered on the way the front of his shirt gaped open a little, buttoned low enough to give him a glimpse of lightly tanned skin and a smattering of chest hair.  _Wonder if he goes shirtless when he’s working? Wouldn’t that be a fucking sight-_

Negan shook the thought off, forcing himself to focus on the present- it wouldn’t do him any good to sit around and fantasize about Rick all night. “You got this place unpacked pretty fucking quick. I’m impressed.”

Rick laughed, the sound deep and musical. “Nah, just rushed the downstairs so that the place wasn’t a complete disaster the first time I had a guest over. The upstairs is half boxes right now. I gotta get through a maze to take a shower.”

“What, you weren’t planning on inviting me upstairs, Rick?” Negan asked, dropping a sly wink in Rick’s direction that made the other man flush sweetly.

“You expectin’ me to put out so fast? What kind of man you think I am?” He volleyed back, and Negan ate up the teasing flirtation- and it  _was_  flirtation, he insisted, had to be.

“The best fucking kind, Rick. But you’re right- don’t want you thinkin’ I’m easy.” He turned his attention to where Rick’s laid- on the whiskey. “On the rocks or neat, sheriff?”

“Neat,” Rick replied, taking the glass gratefully when Negan pressed it into his hand. Negan took up his own glass as well as the bottle itself and walked into the living room, seating himself comfortably on Rick’s sofa and patting the cushion beside him.

“C’mon, Rick. Let’s you and me get to know each other a little better.”

He was immediately gratified by Rick trotting obediently after him and settling into the couch right beside him, no concerns about being too close. He downed nearly half his drink in one fell swig that left him grimacing comically, and Negan tried to focus on his face rather than the way Rick’s thigh was less than three inches from his own. “I wasn’t exactly pourin’ shots there, Rick, but if that’s how you want to play things tonight…” He met Rick’s gaze evenly as he took a burning pull of his own drink, nose wrinkling.

Rick propped his feet up on the edge of the wooden coffee table, sighing deeply as he let his head tip back against the cushions. It was cozy in the living room, the only light radiating in from a lamp a few feet away, bathing everything in a warm, intimate glow that made Rick seem even closer than he was. “Been a long time since I’ve let myself have more than a beer or two on the weekends. Real long time.” He took a much more moderate sip, and Negan watched his eyes flutter closed. He looked gorgeous, relaxed, sated, and Negan wondered how else he could draw that look out of him. 

“Somethin’ I should know before I pour you another one, Rick?” he probed curiously. “If you’re…I don’t fucking know. If you’re not drinking for a reason, I don’t wanna be the person that knocks you off the wagon.”

Rick shook his head, smiling faintly. “Nah. Nothin’ like that. I was never an alcoholic or anything, just…after Lori died, I had a few bad nights. Had a friend…he just thought he was helpin’, you know? Fuck, I know he didn’t have a clue what to do with me then. He’d take me out, buy me drinks thinkin’ it would get me through the night, and I’d just go overboard. Drink ‘til I couldn’t stand, ‘til he had to carry me home and tuck me into bed with my kids sleepin’ down the hall. It only happened a few times, but once…” Rick shook his head, looking down into his glass with shame written plainly on his face. Everything about the man was so guileless. “Once, Carl wandered in when I was throwin’ it all up, saw me puking and crying with half my head in the toilet, and it freaked him out. He thought I was dying too. He was standin’ in the doorway, his hair all mussed up, lookin’ younger than he was, and he thought I’d…taken pills or somethin’.” Rick shuddered, eyes squeezed shut. "It was a low point for me."

Negan blinked over at him, hand coming up to rest on the man’s back. “That is some  _shit_ , Rick. I’m sorry. I’ll keep an eye on you, alright?” Rick looked up at him thankfully, and Negan squeezed his shoulder. “You’ll be alright. Just take a load off.” Rick took another sip with Negan watching him, taking in the way his tongue flicked out across his lower lip to catch any alcohol left there. “So shit got pretty bad after you wife, huh?”

He caught how the question made Rick squirm, the same way the question about why he’d quit the force had at dinner. He tilted his head in the man’s direction, biting back on the barrage of invasive questions he wanted so badly to demand answers to.  _Calm. Casual. You’ve got this. He’ll answer. Let him come to you._ “You don’t have to talk if you don’t want to, Rick. I get it- shit like that fucks you up. Fucks you up somethin’ awful. I know that shit firsthand.”

He took a strategic deep swig of his own whiskey and rubbed at the bare ring finger on his left hand. Rick took notice immediately, perking up at the chance to help someone else get their problems off their chest and not wallow in his own grief. “You wanna…talk about it?”

Negan shook his head- he didn’t, really. Bringing her up…it always stung as bad as it had all those years ago. “You’re not the only widower here, Rick. I lost my wife, too. It was a long fuckin’ time ago, though- cancer. Nearly ten ago now.” Rick’s eyes went wide and sympathetic, and his reaction was so perfect that Negan couldn’t have planned it better if he'd tried. The smaller man leaned into him, shoulder pressed against his in a comforting gesture that made warmth spread down to Negan’s bones.

“Jesus. Ten years…” he shook his head, finishing his drink and then reaching for the bottle to top off both of their glasses.

Negan chuckled self-depreciatingly. “Yeah. I’m the fucking crypt keeper, right? Fucking fifty years old, and I feel every goddamned second of it.”

Rick chuckled into his drink. “Don’t look it, if it makes you feel better.”

Negan’s eyes glinted mischievously. “How old you think I look then, Rick?”

Rick smirked at him over the rim of his glass. “Not a day over forty-nine.”

Negan guffawed, nudging him playfully. “Don’t be mean to me, darlin’. I’m fragile, you know. Old coot like me, been livin’ alone so damn long. You may just hurt my feelings.”

Rick smiled teasingly-  _flirtatiously_ , Negan’s brain insisted. “I’m real sorry. And you’ve been so kind, too. How can I make it up to you?”

“Just keep me around a while, Rick. Keep me company. I get awful lonely, I’ll be honest with you.”

“You’ve gotta have friends,” Rick said, “you just met me less than a week ago and you’ve got me spillin’ my sob story to you.”

Negan shrugged noncommittally. “I’ve got a fair few. Nobody close, though. And I haven’t dated in…Jesus, I don’t even know. I tried for a while after Lucille, but…nobody could compare to her. She was goddamned  _perfect_. The perfect woman for me in every single fucking way.” A lump rose in Negan’s throat, his voice cracking, and suddenly Rick’s warmth was pressed against his side, one strong arm over his shoulder. “I’m not tryin’ to bum you the fuck out or anything, Rick, but  _shit_. All I wanna do is look you right in that pretty face and tell you that it all gets better one day, but that’s a goddamned  _lie_. You carry that shit with you forever, and the weight of it all really wears you the fuck down after a while with nobody helpin’ you carry it.”

Rick nodded against him, squeezing him a little tighter. “I want to help you carry it, Negan. Hell, maybe we can help each other.” He pulled back, and Negan glanced up to see him blushing. “Sorry. I just…guess my mouth got away from me a little there.” Negan violently wished that Rick’s mouth would get away from him in a very different way. “I know we just met, but it’s not every day you meet someone that’s been through the same shit as you. I had a friend back in Georgia that I was close to…one of the only people I was still close to after Lori, he was nearly family to me. He's the one I worked for on the farm. He’d lost his wife years ago, and he was the one to pull me back from the brink when I was too far gone.”

Rick looked so vulnerable then, his face lined with the weight of a story untold that Negan very much wanted to hear. “What happened to you, darlin’?” he prompted, “You clammed right up at dinner when you talked about leavin’ the force- did something happen?”

Rick shook his head, finishing his second glass and looking a little looser for it. “Nothin’  _happened_ , exactly- not with work, not to make me quit. Lori died in a- a car accident. Some guy blowin’ right through a red light." The pain leaked out of his voice like blood pulsing from a fresh wound. "But after she died…I was a mess, and not just a ‘couldn’t get out of bed’ mess, either. I started…” Rick wrung his hands, looking endearingly self-conscious, and Negan took his hands between his own, liking how Rick just  _let_  him. “I started seein’ things. Seein’ her. It sounds goddamned crazy- and it was, I was out of my mind then. It started with phone calls- I’d hear my phone ringing, see her name pop up on the screen, and I’d talk to her- hear her voice and everything. I’d talk to her for hours, and one day Carl came in, asked who I was talking to. I couldn’t tell him, I  _couldn’t_ \- I knew she was gone, but there she was anyway. I’d put the phone down and there would be nobody there."

Negan slid an arm around Rick’s shoulders, tucking him in close. “Shit, Rick…”

“I saw her, too. I’d be at home and see her walking around the backyard, or standin’ over Judith’s crib, or sitting at the kitchen table. She’d talk to me, and I’d talk to her…at the time, I thought it was good, you know? Thought that at least I could see her like that.” Rick smiled sadly, his eyes haunted. “I was wrong. I was losing myself, holing up in my room to talk to someone that wasn’t there. I cut out all the people in my life, on by one, pushed ‘em away until they stopped comin’ around.”

“Jesus, Rick,” Negan breathed. “How the hell did you get out of that?”

“My friend- Hershel.” Negan recognized that name. “He reached out to me- caught me on a particularly bad night and I just…told him. I didn’t care anymore, so I told him, and he listened. He didn’t think I was crazy. He got me help. Medication, therapy, all that stuff. I’d already quit the force at that point. Hershel hired me up as a farmhand, and it helped. Helped a lot.” He tipped his face up toward Negan’s, and he was so  _close_ , so fucking close that Negan could see the reflection of the lamplight in his pale blue eyes. A handful of inches, and his lips would be on Rick’s, tasting him. “We all need people, Negan. I’m sorry to hear that you don’t have anyone close enough to help you, but…maybe that’s why I’m here.”

Negan smiled as softly as he could manage. “Maybe, Rick. I’d be alright with that.” There was still a part of the story he was missing, though, and nothing bothered Negan more than an unfinished puzzle. “So why’d you quit the force, then? It sounded like there was more to it than you were lettin’ on at dinner.”

Rick shuffled his feet, crossing and uncrossing his legs. “I…I mean, I wasn’t really fit to work, you know. While I was seein’ things. And what I said at dinner was true…it’s just that I had a good reason to worry about the danger of it. I’d been shot on duty a couple years before Lori died.” Negan sucked in a breath that he hoped sounded convincingly surprised. “Put me in a coma, actually. For a good month and a half. I nearly quit then- god knows Lori wanted me to. She was pregnant with Judith when it happened. I stayed on because I loved the work, but after Lori was gone, I couldn’t risk it. The thought of Carl and Judith losin' both their parents...” Rick shivered against him. 

Negan whistled low. “Goddamn, Rick. You’ve been through the wringer, honey.”

Rick chuckled, swilling the last remnants of his whiskey. “I guess so. Maybe I still need a little help, myself.”

Negan rested his free hand on Rick’s knee, resisting the urge to slide his palm up the strong thigh. “Well, I’m more than up to the challenge if you’ll let me, Rick.”


	3. Touch

“ _Ah_ , Rick, honey, you’re s-so- fuck, _fuck-!_ ”

Negan gave one last stuttering thrust of his hips against his mattress and came with a hoarse cry of completion, his eyes locked on the blinding brightness of his phone screen as wetness pooled between his stomach and the sheets. He gave one last messy rut into the bed, picturing the man on the screen laid out beneath him, shaking and panting as he came down from the orgasm that Negan had fucked into him. He’d be so _sensitive_ , Negan was sure of it. After so long on his own, how could he not be? He was already so responsive, going sweet and flushed beneath Negan’s errant touches, work-tanned skin breaking out into goosebumps. The thought of it nearly made Negan want to come all over again, and he groaned, rolling onto his back and swiping the picture away so that he could try to get some sleep.

The single evening he’d spent with Rick left Negan feeling voracious, craving the man’s company like drowning men crave air. Halfway through the week, just a few days since their dinner together, and already he was trying to conjure up excuses to see Rick again. The exchanged texts and brief chats whenever Rick came out to check the mail weren’t nearly enough to sate Negan’s thirst.

He _wanted_ him. Knowing that at this very moment Rick was sleeping alone in his bed right next door was enough to drive him nearly rabid with longing. Rick- sweet, kindhearted, trusting, fractured _Rick_ \- deserved so much more than lonely night like this. He deserved to be cherished, treasured in a way that only Negan could give him.

Negan sighed deeply and stripped the ruined sheets from his bed, padding his way through the darkened downstairs to dump them into the laundry. He couldn’t count the number of times in the last four days that he’d come into his own hand to the stolen snapshot of Rick tucked away on his phone. It was the first thing he’d done after their evening together, which had stayed far too sober and tame for Negan’s liking. He had this image in his head of Rick, soft with sleep and insobriety, his blue eyes starlit in their dreaminess as Negan helped him to stumbling feet, his hands gripping tight as Negan led him upstairs and tucked him safely away in his bed after a long night of talking together. He wanted to fuck him, of course- but not then, not while he wouldn’t be able to enjoy it, to come alive in Negan’s strong arms and come apart at the seams in the most intimate way, so he would simply press a kiss to his forehead and hope that Rick dreamed of him.

But none of that had happened. Rick had simply called it a night after a couple glasses of whiskey and heartfelt conversation, letting Negan out the door with a promise of getting together again soon.

Not soon enough for Negan’s liking. If it was up to him, he would have stayed the night, as close as Rick would have let him. He’d sleep curled blanketless on the floor like a loyal guard dog beside Rick’s bed if it meant being by the man's side.

He’d left both giddy and frustrated, and as soon as he’d locked his front door behind himself, he’d undone his belt and pulled out his phone to revisit the sinful image of Rick’s bare body. It was an addiction, and he found himself looking at it even when he shouldn’t be, in between classes at work and at long red lights, unable to help himself. He’d never get tired of it, of that he was certain. How could anyone ever grow tired of Rick Grimes?

If anything, all the times that he’d brought himself to a crescendo to the thought of being buried inside of Rick just made him want more.

Negan wandered into the kitchen, not bothering to turn on the light. It was pitch dark out, and the dim green glow of the clock on the stove read twelve-sixteen. He should be going to bed- instead, he found himself drawing out the unfinished bottle of whiskey from his liquor cabinet and unscrewing the lid, taking a long, heavy drought that burned smoothly down his throat. The taste and smell brought him back to his evening spent with Rick and how much better the alcohol would have tasted mingling with Rick's soft, supple mouth. He was about to take another drink, just to settle his restless, obsessive thoughts of the man next door when a flicker of light from outside the window above the sink- the one that faced Rick’s house. Instantly intrigued, he drew closer until he could see the source.

A light had come on downstairs in Rick’s home- in his living room, if Negan recalled the layout correctly.

Rick was awake. Negan’s heart thrummed loudly in his chest as he leaned as close to the windowpane as he could, squinting hard to try and make out any moving shadows in the lit window. When he couldn’t see anything but soft yellow light, an idea formed in his mind.

Abandoning the whiskey on the counter, he unlocked his back door and stepped out onto the wooden porch, slick with autumn rain and fallen leaves. The dense black woods lining the back of the property seemed much more menacing in the inky darkness of midnight, and Negan was drawn to the warm glow cast by Rick’s window like a moth to flame, ready to be consumed by the heat. He crept through the narrow strip of grass separating their houses, bare feet freezing in the dewy grass, but he didn’t care. He slowed to stopping when he was right outside the window, breath caught in his chest. Gingerly, he stepped up as close as he could, the way hindered by the bushes lining the side of the house. He did his best not to rustle and make noise- it would fucking suck to try to explain why he was outside of Rick’s window at midnight- and tried to peek through the gap between the blinds and the window frame. It was _barely_ a sliver, but it was enough to get a tiny glimpse into Rick’s living room.

Rick was nowhere to be seen amid the tidy arrangement of furniture, and immediately disappointment washed through Negan. He had to be inside! Where the hell was he-

Rick stepped into view from around the wall dividing the kitchen and living room, and Negan’s breath hitched as he laid eyes on him. Rick walked over to the armchair in the far corner of the room and all but collapsed into it, fingers scrubbing through his long hair and displacing it so that errant curls tumbled over his forehead, and it struck Negan how tired, how worn-down he looked. And why wouldn’t he be? A single father battling his own demons and grief, taking care of things by himself for so long…of course he was exhausted. Negan had gotten a glimpse of that the other night, but now, seeing Rick vulnerable and unguarded, it made him want to rush up to the front door and knock until Rick let him in so he could take the man into his arms.

But a layer of glass separated them, and even Negan knew better than to pull a stunt like that so soon. One day, though…one day he wouldn’t have to watch Rick from the icy cold outside his window. One day, that man would be his.

* * *

It had been a good week for Rick. Carl had adjusted quickly to his school, despite his complaining about being the new kid, and was already itching to get his license in two months when he turned sixteen so he could stop having to ask his dad to drive with him so he could go to his friends’ houses or the Sonic they all liked to hang out at. Judith was happy and getting along with the other kids at her preschool, the house was completely unpacked- a feat that Rick and Carl celebrated by joyfully collapsing onto the floor and ordering in Chinese- and work was going well. As much as he’d worried that he would have trouble connecting with people, the other farmhands had been nothing but welcoming and friendly. He liked it in Virginia, he realized- and it felt good, liking the place where he was. His home was cozy and there weren’t constant reminders of Lori lurking behind every door like specters of his sadness, and he felt, for the first time in a year, that he was beginning to be at peace.

And then there was Negan, who was becoming the close friend that Rick hadn’t had since he and Shane had grown apart following Lori’s death. They texted daily, chatted whenever their paths crossed getting the mail or raking leaves, and it felt so right, so easy. Negan was a good listener, never making Rick feel like anything he said was burdensome. He said he wanted to help, to be there for Rick, and when Rick looked into his eyes, he could see how genuine and heartfelt the sentiment was. In the time since Lori’s passing, Rick had encountered plenty of people who said everything Negan said with nothing behind their eyes, who had shied away when Rick dared to get into the gritty details, and for so long he’d thought that finding a true friend that would listen to him without judgment or pity would be impossible.

And it wasn’t all woe and spilling their guts, either- Negan made him smile, made him laugh, made him forget, just for a few minutes at a time, that there was anything to trouble him at all. Like right now- Rick was sprawled on the couch in sweats, half-watching Law and Order while he texted back and forth with Negan like he was Carl’s age.

 _It’s the same with all of these cop shows- none of it’s accurate. Right now this guy's acting like he’s never heard of a sex addict before when I know this is probably season 11 of this show and he works in the damned sex crimes unit_ , Rick typed, and Negan responded a moment later.

_Ha! Why do you watch it if you’re just rolling your eyes the whole fucking time?_

A fair point, Rick supposed. But it was a Saturday evening and there wasn’t a lot to do. There had been talk at work of a few of them going out and getting drinks over the weekend, but the plans had fallen through and Rick found himself with little to do beside watch reruns and text. Maggie had turned in an hour ago-she was trying to get all the sleep she could before the baby was due, she joked. She still had months to go, and had just started to show when Rick had moved, but he understood. Still, her and Glenn and Hershel were the only people he really talked to regularly, and without them around he found himself growing bored. He told Negan just that: _Nothing else to do right now, I guess._

 _Do you want something else to do?_ Negan replied, and instantly Rick’s curiosity was piqued.

_Maybe. Depends on what you’re talking about doing._

Rick could almost see the other man’s sardonic smirk as he tapped out his answer: _Not sure yet. Go out with me anyway. It’s only six, the day is fucking young. What do you say?_

Rick stared at his screen, worrying his lower lip. His eyes stuck on the words go out with me- did Negan just mean for fun, or something more?

He decided to just be straightforward in his approach. _Go out…as in a date?_

 _If that’s what you want it to be._ Negan replied, and then a moment later: _I’d like for it to be. If that’s not too fucking forward._

It was a little forward, as they’d known each other less than two weeks and the last evening they’d spent together Rick had poured his soul out about how he’d been barely above water for the last year. Rick didn’t feel overly surprised at Negan’s admission, and it took him a second to process exactly why that was. In hindsight, Negan’s flirtation seemed much more obvious- all the _darlin_ ’s, the way he’d joked about Rick taking him upstairs, how easily he’d reached out to touch Rick when he comforted him. Knowing that Negan was interesting in him as more than just a friend didn’t bother him, didn’t make anything he’d said or done seem less genuine. And there was something to be said for putting it all out there. Negan wasn’t a man of pretense, and Rick liked that about him.

_I don’t know how I feel about a date. It’s nothing personal, just haven’t…since Lori, you know. I’d like to get out of the house, though, if you still want to._

He hadn’t realized he’d been nervously holding his breath until Negan replied a minute later with _That’s perfectly alright, Rick. I get it. Not too fast. I still want to get you out of your house tonight either way._

Rick smiled, quickly tapping out: _great, I’ll be ready in a few, just need to let Carl know that he’s watching Judith tonight._

Carl was in his bedroom, engrossed in a video game when Rick poked his head in. “Hey, got a favor to ask,” Rick said.

Carl spared him a quick glance of acknowledgment, still playing the game. “Alright.”

“I need you to watch Judith for me tonight I’m, uh. I’m going out for a little while.”

Carl shot him a slightly longer look this time, eyebrows raised. “ _Out?_ Like…on a _date?_ ”

“Not a date. Not really.” Carl looked skeptical as he took aim and splattered a zombie’s head on his tv screen. “Can you pause that while we’re talkin’?”

“I’m playing online, dad.”

“So?”

“So there’s no _pausing_ on online match. I’m playing against real people,” Carl said with some mild teenage exasperation that Rick decided to let slide since he was being asked last minute to babysit.

“Well, I need you to keep an eye on Judy while I’m out. I’d like it if you were in the same room as her, just while she’s awake. Only a couple hours, then you can go back to zombie killing.”

“When’s your date showing up? Can I finish this match?”

Rick bit back a sigh. “Not a date. But yeah, you can finish the match. You should probably make some dinner when you’re done. I’ll start boiling some water for mac and cheese.”

“Alright,” Carl nodded, still focused on the screen. “Have fun on your not-date.”

A knock at the front door startled Rick, and Carl laughed. “Good thing this match is almost over. Seems like whoever you’re going out with is eager.”

Rick ignored him and went downstairs to answer the door. Negan was neatly dressed in his ever-present leather jacket, and he leaned against the door after Rick invited stepped inside, eyes dragging over Rick’s body in a way that made him a bit self-conscious of his own ragged appearance. “I, uh. Sorry I’m not dressed yet, I was just about to put some water on for Judith’s dinner and then change…” He rubbed at his arms self-consciously, feeling his face heat up. He was practically in pajamas, donning loose gray sweatpants and a thin white t-shirt that probably had sweet-and-sour sauce stains on it from lunch.

Negan laid a hand on his shoulder, his skin cold from being outside. “It’s no problem, Rick. You can wear that out for all I care. Although-” he gave a pointed look at the crotch of Rick’s sweats, “you might wanna put on some underwear.”

Rick felt his face heat to burning, trying to subtly shift his legs so that he wasn’t so on display. “I, uh. Yeah. I’ll go change.”

“Fuckin’ A. I can put the water on if you want.”

Rick shot him a grateful look. “Thanks.”

He quickly threw on some decent clothes-and boxers- and brushed his teeth, and when he wandered back downstairs to let Negan know that he was ready, Carl was there with Judith on his hip looking deeply amused.

“So you’re going out with Negan?” He asked, a little curiously. Rick swallowed hard, unsure of what to say.

“Yep! Your daddy needs a night on the town, I think. Don’t you worry, kid. I’ll bring him back in one piece.” Negan threw an arm around Rick’s shoulders, and Rick watched Carl take the picture of them together in, trying to process it.

In the end, he simply said, “Have fun,” and waved as Negan wheeled his father out the front door.

“Where are we going?” Rick asked when they got into Negan’s car and started down the road. There was a song playing quietly on the radio, something familiar and guitar-heavy that Rick couldn’t quite place filling the night air between them with a soothing hum.

“Where do you wanna go?” Negan countered. “I’m down to fuckin’ clown with whatever you want to do tonight. You wanna get dinner? See a movie? We got a bowling alley about ten minutes away, we could hit up a _bar…whatever_ the fuck you want. Tonight’s your night. I just want you to have a good time.”

Rick considered the hungry growl in his belly and let it make the decision for him. “Let’s get somethin’ to eat. I had leftover Chinese around one and nothing else since then, so I’m starvin’.”

Negan grinned, white teeth flashing in the dark. “Sounds good, I’m fucking famished. What are you in the mood for? I know this great little hole in the wall not fifteen minutes from here, serves the best chocolate pie I’ve ever tasted in my life. The burgers ain’t half bad, either.”

Rick’s mouth was watering just thinking about it. “Sounds perfect.”

* * *

“Oh my god,” Rick moaned around a mouthful of burger, “that’s _damn_ good.”

Negan grinned triumphantly, popping a fry into his mouth and watching as Rick devoured his meal like he hadn’t eaten in days. “I told you, didn’t I? Just wait until you try the pie. I bet you’ve got a sweet tooth, don’t you, Rick?” The warmth touching Rick’s cheeks gave him his answer, and he smiled, loving that he’d read him right. “I thought so. I could just fuckin’ tell. You’ll love me after you get a taste, Rick.”

“Mm,” Rick hummed, chugging water to wash down the burger. “This is great, Negan. Been a while since I've had a burger that didn't involve a drive-thru. Thanks.”

Negan chuckled. “I wasn’t the one that cooked it, Rick.”

“No, I mean for takin’ me out tonight. I needed it. Needed it more than I realized. It’s nice just spending time with someone that’s not fifteen and on his cellphone at the dinner table.”

Negan reached over and gave Rick’s forearm a squeeze from across the table. “Of course, darlin’. Any-fucking-time you need some time away from home, you know where to find me.”

“And I’m sorry about…I mean, I just want you to know that the reason I said no to it bein’ a- a date- it’s not because of you. I just…” Rick trailed off shyly, and Negan tilted his head, prompting him to continue. He was dying to know what it meant when Rick said that it wasn’t _him_ \- did that mean that Rick _did_ think of him in a romantic way?

“I just haven’t been on a date in a long time,” Rick finished, looking endearingly shy. “I haven’t been on a first date since I was eighteen.”

Negan froze with a fry halfway between his plate and his mouth, mind whirring at what Rick was implying. “Goddamn, Rick. I didn’t know you and Lori got started so fuckin’ young.”

Rick chuckled weakly. “Yeah. Even younger than that, really, if you consider that I’d had a crush on her for two years in high school. Only ever worked up the nerve to ask her out when we graduated because I didn’t want to miss my chance.”

Negan had to ask- the question nearly fell off his tongue in his eagerness to know. “She your first love, Rick?”

Rick’s cheeks were definitely a deeper shade of pink now, and he ducked his head to try in vain to hide it. “She was my first everything. My _only_ everything.” Melancholy touched his voice at that, but Negan could only focus on the fact that Rick had only ever been with his wife. No other person, no other _man_ , had touched him the way Negan wanted to and the thought sparked a fire in him that burned through his thighs, made him want to drag Rick forward by the collar of his jacket, strip him bare and take him right there at the table. _Fuck_ , he thought dangerously, _he’s not gonna know what to do with himself when I fuck him. I’m gonna fucking tear him to shreds._

He managed to eke out an, “ain’t that sweet,” instead of the onslaught of filth filling his thoughts- doubly lucky since their waitress arrived at that moment to deliver their dessert, freshly heated and gooey with a melting scoop of vanilla ice cream topping it off. Rick licked his lips, taking up his fork immediately and scooping up a bite of pie. His blue eyes blew wide at the taste of it on his tongue, and Negan smiled and dug in.

“Holy shit,” Rick managed around a mouthful.

“I fucking know.”

They made short work of the pie together, the last bite being whittled down to bite-size in their reluctance to be the one stealing the last of it. Rick nodded to it, pushing the plate toward Negan. “Go ahead.”

Negan shook his head, scooped up the last morsel and held it out to Rick, looking at him expectantly. “C’mon, now Rick. Open up. I know you want it.” He saw the recognition in Rick’s eyes as he caught the double entendre, but he noticed with delight that Rick didn’t shy away from it. Instead, he scooted forward in his booth and accepted the offered bite, humming happily as he did. He went to pull back, but Negan’s hand flashed out and caught him by the jaw, thumb tracing the line of Rick’s wet lower lip. Rick froze in surprise as Negan held him there with his eyes for a heated moment before pulling away with a smirk. “You had some chocolate, Rick,” he explained, tapping his own lip. “Just lookin’ out for you.”

* * *

“You know, we never finished that whiskey last week…”

Negan left the end of the sentence open, an offer that he wanted so badly for Rick to take him up on. The evening had gone well, and the thought of it ending now just for them to go their separate ways made Negan want to scream. He couldn’t take another night alone, grinding down into his mattress and pretending Rick was there beneath him. Rick had opened like a flower to him as the evening progressed, leaning into Negan’s touch, eyes always trained on him like he was captivated by Negan’s presence. It made Negan hope that somehow, some way, Rick could become just as ensnared and spellbound as he was.

Rick looked up at him from beneath the pale yellow porchlight of Negan’s house, something new and different playing out on his face- something like flirtation and daring, and it was so unbelievably sexy on him that Negan lost his breath. He had Negan hanging on every word, following the curve of his lips like a lifeline.

“Maybe we should take care of that, then.”

Negan nearly wrenched the door off its hinges in an effort to get them both inside. He had to breathe a moment as he shed his jacket over the handrail of the stairs, quelling his obvious eagerness as Rick wandered into his kitchen. “Nice place,” he observed approvingly. “I kind of assumed…” he broke off and Negan sidled up next to him and bumped the man’s hip with his own teasingly.

“What? You thought I’d be livin’ like a lonely old bachelor? Socks on the floor and hot women in bikinis up on my walls?” He jibed as he drew out the whisky and a couple glasses. Rick held his hands up in surrender, laughing a little.

“Yeah, somethin’ like that. Nothin’ wrong with that, but…I don’t know. You keep your place nicer than I do.”

Negan chuckled and offered Rick a glass. “Easier when you don’t have rugrats runnin’ around.”

Rick swilled his drink and peered at him curiously. “You and Lucille- did you want kids?”

Negan grimaced into his drink- he didn’t want to think about Lucille when he was here with Rick, but he couldn’t deny the man anything, not if he tried. “I wanted ‘em,” he said honestly. “At least two. Probably more if she’d have let me, but we never got the chance.” He crossed the room and sank down on the couch, Rick following after him. He liked that very much- how Rick naturally eased down beside him, closer now than they’d been last week.

“I’m sorry,” Rick murmured sadly. “I can’t imagine- if it wasn’t for Carl and Judith, I don’t know how I would’ve gotten back on my feet at all. I don’t know that I would’ve wanted to if I didn’t have a reason.”

“I was in a dark place for a long time,” Negan confessed, staring into the amber liquid clutched in his hand. “She was my fucking everything, Rick. My whole goddamned world. For what felt like forever, I couldn’t see anything but her.”

“And now?” Rick asked, eyes a starry midnight blue in the dark of the room.

“Now,” Negan breathed, gazing ardently at the man beside him, “now, I realize that sometimes life gives us second chances. We lose people, we grieve, life goes on, and somewhere along the line we find a new reason to try again.”

Rick’s breath hitched subtly in his throat as Negan pressed closer to him, body heat washing away the last lingering traces of cool nighttime air clinging to their skin. _So fucking beautiful_ , Negan thought as he gazed at Rick’s face. He realized as the man’s cheeks began to color that he’d spoken aloud, and he breathed a weak chuckle, shaking his head at himself. “Sorry,” he whispered, not sorry in the least, “just thinkin’ out loud.”

Rick seemed to not know what to say, opting to finish off his drink. When he set his glass down on the coffee table, Negan saw just how wet his lower lip was, how enticingly kissable, just begging to be nipped and sucked until it was bruised and swollen. Rick was so fucking _close_ to him, so close that he felt like he was burning, and he couldn’t stand it another second.

Rick’s mouth fell open on a silent gasp when Negan reached out to cup his cheek, his blue eyes full and gorgeous in their unsurety. He smelled richly of whiskey and chocolate pie, and Negan felt more drunk on his presence than the alcohol in his abandoned glass. Maybe that was why his resolve evaporated into nothing and he closed the sliver of space between them, pushing their mouths gently together in a tender kiss.

Rick’s mouth was _made_ for his, Negan realized with wonder as he kissed him. His lips, so soft and plush and warm, slotted perfectly against Negan’s own and the thought only spurred him on, hands wandering up to cup the back of Rick’s neck and tangle in his silky curls. Rick’s breath hitched against Negan’s lips, and Negan groaned deep in his throat. He realized a few moments in that Rick wasn’t responding, and he almost panicked, but then he felt the other man’s tentative explorations, hands sliding up to hold onto his forearms and lips cautiously kissing him back.

Rick kissed so shyly, so sweetly, that Negan’s eyes rolled back into his head with the pleasure of it. It was all at once too much and not nearly enough. Negan’s tongue dipped between Rick’s parted lips and plundered his mouth, lost in a foggy daze of arousal. His fingers sought out warm flesh, skimming down Rick’s throat and over his sides until he found the hem of his shirt and slid his hands beneath, roaming hungrily.

“ _Negan_ -” Rick breathed between kisses, sounding undone to Negan’s ears. He captured the man’s mouth again only to find Rick pulling away once more. He unthinkingly growled in frustration, tightening his hold on Rick’s waist, and that was when hands found his chest and pushed at him gently, holding him back. “Negan, wait.”

Negan forced himself to be still, to not let his hips stutter forward and grind against Rick’s own, to not try to chase away all of the doubt and uncertainty he saw on Rick’s face away with his mouth.

“I…” Rick looked dazed and lost, like he’d suddenly woken up from a dream. Negan dropped his head onto Rick’s shoulder, taking deep, calming breaths and breathing in the clean laundry-detergent scent of the man’s shirt. When he lifted his head, he was composed despite the way every cell in his body ached to be on top of Rick.

“I’m sorry, honey. I know- that was a little fast.” It felt like the twist of a knife in his gut forcing himself to pull away, but he didn’t want to scare Rick off. He pressed one last fleeting kiss to Rick’s forehead before wandering back into the kitchen and refilling their glasses, bringing the bottle with him. Rick accepted the cup with pinked cheeks and an embarrassed half-smile, like he’d been the one turned down.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, lips against glass as he drank. “It’s not that I don’t want…” he broke off with a rueful chuckle. “It’s been a long time. Feels like longer than a year, and for ages I never pictured myself with someone new, because in my head that meant I was healed in some way. That I was better, I was over Lori and moving on.”

Negan nodded. “I get it. And I’m not trying to push you here, Rick. If you’re not ready…we can wait.” He didn’t want to- _God_ , he didn’t think he could, especially after getting a taste, feeling what it was to have Rick against him, all his tightly wound threads coming unraveled beneath Negan’s deft fingers. “But you’re not ever gonna be _over_ Lori, you know? Not really. Losing someone like that, it’s not something you ever really get over. You just…learn to live with it. And the first step to doing that is accepting the fact that you’re allowed to be happy again.”

Rick reached out and caught Negan’s hand, soft affection in his trusting eyes. “I want to get there. I do. It’s just gonna take some time.” His honeyed drawl dropped a couple octaves, whiskey-drunk and enticing. “You’ll just have to be patient with me. Gentle.”

“ _Honey_ ,” Negan breathed, hanging on Rick’s every word, “for you? I’ll do anything.”

* * *

“-and that’s when I knew I’d made a huge fucking mistake working with fucking teenagers- Rick?” Negan asked suddenly, noticing that the man hadn’t so much as chuckled at his story in a few minutes. He glanced over at the man beside him only to see that Rick had fallen asleep, dozing peacefully with his head lolling onto his shoulder and soft puffs of breath escaping his lips. It was about time, too, Negan thought- the bottle of whiskey sat empty on the coffee table between their glasses. Rick had drunk more than Negan- he’d made sure of that. Rick had been cute drunk- all smiles and slurred words and foggy eyes full of wonder at Negan’s every word.

And now he was asleep. Negan could leave him here on the couch, tuck him in and let him wake up there in the morning. Or…

Impulsively, Negan got up off the couch and slid his arms beneath Rick, one under his knees and the other curved around his back. When he didn’t stir, Negan slowly, carefully hefted the smaller man into his arms, momentarily left breathless by how close they were. He could see himself carrying Rick like this all the time, sweeping him off his feet and carrying him over the threshold of their shared home, laying him down in their bed.

He just wanted to see what Rick looked like among warm blankets and soft sheets. Anyone would, he reasoned.

And that’s how he justified quietly climbing the stairs with Rick cradled against his chest, stepping into his bedroom and ever so gently laying him on his unmade bed. He was breathing a little heavy- Rick was more muscular than him, and while he was certainly shorter, he was also heavier and more sturdy than Negan had anticipated. He was still wearing his scuffed-up boots. _That won’t fucking do_ , Negan thought, and he slowly tugged them off bit by bit and placed them on the floor beside the bed.

“There,” he whispered, tucking a loose curl behind Rick’s ear and admiring the beauty of the man sleeping soundly in his bed, “that’s better, isn’t it, darlin’?”

He should have left it at that- he’d planned to. He would take the couch and sleep well knowing that Rick was safe and sound in his bed upstairs. But the moment he stepped away from Rick, he felt drawn right back, like the man had a gravity all his own that Negan was a helpless moon drawn into his orbit.

Negan couldn’t take his eyes off of Rick as he toed off his shoes and stripped out of his pants. He ran trembling fingers through Rick’s chestnut curls, debating for only a moment before he climbed into bed beside him, mindful not to rouse the peacefully sleeping man. _I won’t stay_ , he promised himself- Rick wouldn’t be happy if he woke up and found himself in Negan’s arms, not after his talk of _going slow_.

But what Rick didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.

Negan edged closer and closer to Rick until he was flush against the man’s back, the curve of Rick’s ass nestled against Negan’s crotch. Negan’s whole body shook with the intimacy of it, the vulnerability. He draped one arm around Rick’s waist, breathless at his own audacity.

Negan couldn’t help but notice how perfectly Rick fit curved against him, like they were made for this, made for _each other_. His body was so warm and firm, his even breaths a balm to Negan’s nerves. He was sure that if he could spend his nights in Rick’s arms, the rest of his problems would melt away.

Tentatively, he let his fingers trace down Rick’s chest, fingers dragging from his collarbone down to his sternum, then over his flat belly only to be stopped at Rick’s belt. On the path back up, he took a detour, lingering on Rick’s chest and tracing the divide between his pecs before dipping inside the open collar of his shirt, shuddering deliciously when his fingers found smooth skin dappled with a small smattering of curly hair. He recalled the picture on his phone and made a small, needful noise into Rick’s clothed shoulder, want flaring up inside him like a struck match.

His fingers dipped deeper into Rick’s shirt, and Negan had to bite back the gasp that nearly left him when he found Rick’s nipple, soft and velvety under his fingertips. Cautiously, carefully, he passed a thumb over it, wanting to feel it grow hard and taught beneath his touch. _Gentle_ , he reminded himself, _fucking gentle,_ and that’s what he was- he took his time, was patient and gentle just as Rick had asked him to be, and was rewarded with Rick’s nipple becoming erect as he passed his fingers over it. He couldn’t help but wonder if Rick’s nipples were sensitive- did he like them played with, or would he bat Negan’s hands away?

He let himself play there for a few minutes, finding the other nipple and giving it the same treatment until he found himself achingly, painfully hard and straining against the cotton of his boxers. He withdrew his hand, breathing hard, sweat beading at his hairline.

 _You should fucking stop this shit while you’re ahead_ , his mind cautioned.

His body didn’t get the memo.

The dark bedroom was so deadly silent that he could hear the slide of his hand against the coarse material of Rick’s jeans as he caressed him there, fingers cautiously rubbing over the crotch of Rick’s pants. He panted against the shadow of Rick’s neck, warm breath fogging as he sought out the softness there hiding beneath layers of denim and cotton. _I’d kill to feel this get hard, too_ , he thought fervently as he cupped Rick’s cock best he could. He found the zipper with his forefinger, tracing up the length of it and shivering, drunk on the power he held.

_I could unzip him right here. Could undress him, take anything I want. Everything I want._

He buried his face in the dense curls at the nape of Rick’s neck, teetering on the brink of disaster. He was so hard that he couldn’t think straight, could hardly breathe for the powerful fear that Rick would stir in his arms and find him out. Against his own volition, his hips stuttered forward, grinding against that lovely, pert backside. His hand released Rick’s groin to grope at his ass, images of Rick, stripped naked and raising his hips to Negan in offering flooding his mind. He’d be so fucking _tight_ , so slick and warm, yielding to Negan, only to Negan, giving himself up in a way he never had before.

“ _Fuck, Rick_ ,” Negan whispered low, voice shattered. He wanted him, he _wanted_ him- he ground himself against Rick’s ass again and came with a shock, warm wetness spilling in his boxers.

He froze, rooted to the spot after his orgasm passed, terrified that Rick would wake and roll over and catch him with his pants almost literally down. He laid there stiffly, listening to Rick’s deep, measured breathing for a minute before he was calm again, reassured that the man was still fast asleep.

He slid out of the bed and tucked Rick in, kissing his temple before stripping off his ruined underwear and tossing them in the hamper, opting to pull on a pair of loose pajama pants. With one last longing look at the man in his bed, Negan left the room and walked downstairs, settling in for a night on the couch.

He didn’t even bother turning on the light as he trudged over to the couch, and was about to lay down when he caught a glint of metal on the kitchen counter- Rick’s keys.

Sometimes the other man made things too easy for him.

He already had the putty stashed away in a kitchen drawer- he was a man well-prepared if nothing else. Two quick presses into the mold, and he had everything he needed to make a copy of Rick’s key- and Rick would never be the wiser.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks so much for all the comments and encouragement so far!


	4. Creep

The hearty, hunger-inducing smell of cooking bacon was what roused Rick from his slumber, the scent wafting in from downstairs through the open bedroom door.

 _That’s nice_ , Rick thought to himself with a smile as he grunted and stretched his sleep-heavy limbs beneath the warm sheets he was wrapped in, _Carl’s making us breakfast._ His head ached a little, dull pain radiating from his temples that worsened when he rolled onto his side and was met with bright light that he could see even through his eyelids. He groaned faintly, rolling back over into the comforting darkness and cracking one eye to see-

That he wasn’t in his bedroom.

For a moment of heart-stopping panic, he didn’t have a clue where he was. He was in a bed wholly unfamiliar to him, and there were clothes shed over the floor- though he was, thankfully, fully dressed. The headache suddenly made much more sense, and the memory of drinking the night before made everything snap into focus suddenly as remembrance washed over him.

He remembered himself and Negan sitting close together on the couch, remembered the taller man leaning in close, the words on his lips like the sweetest praise: _so fucking beautiful_. With a flush of heat he remembered what followed, Negan’s mouth on his own in a searing kiss that had left him both wanting and terrified. The thought of it now made warmth spread through him alongside embarrassment. It had been a long time since he’d been spoken to like that, touched with the intention of wandering hands, kissed with the burn of lust on his tongue, and even when he’d been drunk it had scared him. He was getting to know Negan quickly, and there was a part of him that almost wished he’d woken to the man curled beside him in bed… _but no_ , he thought. No, it was better to go slow. Take his time- he’d never even casually dated after Lori’s death, politely rebuffing the few advances he’d received and laughing off Maggie’s suggestions of online dating. Until now, until _Negan_ , he’d thought that his capacity to love and lust in that way was long gone, packed away in boxes like his and Lori’s old home.

He followed his growling stomach’s pleas and headed downstairs, the sizzle-crack of cooking meat and soft, lilting sounds of a radio playing filling Negan’s kitchen. Rick lingered behind him for a moment, watching the man as he worked over the stove. There were fluffy biscuits sitting on a cooling rack on the counter, butter and jelly and honey placed neatly in a row. Rick had thought his entrance had gone unnoticed, but a moment later Negan was whirling around with a brilliant smile just for him, an oil-spattered red apron tied loosely around his neck.

“Rick! G’morning, darlin’. You sleep alright? I tried to make sure you were comfortable- I want you comin’ back, after all.” Rick nodded, wincing a little at the volume of Negan’s excited voice.

“Slept like a damn rock- didn’t know where I was for a moment when I woke up.”

Negan began rooting through a cabinet for something. “Sorry about that- guess you had a little more to drink that I realized. You remember last night at all?” He turned back to Rick and placed a bottle of aspirin in his hand, sliding a glass of water across the counter to him a second later.

“Yeah,” Rick replied after downing the pills. “Came back to me after a second. I remember talkin’ on the couch with you. I must have fallen asleep on you, I’m sorry.” And he truly was- here he was, a grown man with children, passing out on Negan after a few glasses of whiskey. It was embarrassing. Once upon a time, he could hold his liquor as well as anyone, but after Hershel and Maggie noticed him chasing every meal with a glass of Jack, they’d intervened and Hershel had helped wean him off the bottle and onto coping mechanisms that had less potential for addiction. He’d barely drank more than a glass of wine or a beer with dinner since then, and his tolerance had evaporated into nothing.

“You did, but that’s alright, honey. I don’t mind a single goddamn bit, you seem like you needed a good night’s rest. I would’ve let you conk right the fuck out on the couch, but I figured you’d be more comfortable on a bed, so I carried you upstairs. Hope you don’t mind.”

Rick’s face grew hot at the thought of him, passed out drunk and cradled in Negan’s arms as the larger man carried him up to his bedroom and tucked him in. It was ridiculous that the thought sparked warmth in him. He could take care of himself, after all, but it had been so long since he’d had someone to dote on him like this, and an attention-starved part of himself craved it like air in waterlogged lungs.

“I’m sorry you had to do all that- sleep on the couch and all. I didn’t mean to be so much trouble. And now you’re cookin’ breakfast for us…” And it looked delicious, like the home-cooked Sunday breakfasts back home at the Greene’s farm. Were those biscuits _homemade?_ There was flour all through the kitchen, smudged on the handles of the fridge and dusted across Negan’s forehead and nose.

“It’s no fucking trouble, Rick. I enjoy it, if I’m bein’ honest. I like having someone to care about.” His eyes met Rick’s, ardent affection lingering there. The honest intensity of the look struck Rick speechless for a moment, and he was helpless to do anything but smile warmly in return. He sat at the table as Negan puttered around the kitchen fixing their plates, humming along with the radio and pouring them glasses of orange juice. He thanked the man sincerely when he was presented with food, and tried to be a better houseguest by not wolfing down the delicious breakfast like he desperately wanted to.

“So,” Negan murmured, his ankle bumping Rick’s beneath the table as he slid into the seat across from him, “is that all you remember from last night?”

The question was laced with insinuation, and Rick immediately knew what Negan was asking him. “I remember you kissing me,” he answered, looking up from his bacon. “I remember kissing you back.”

Negan licked his lips, looking hungrier for Rick than the food set before him. “And…what d’you think about all that? Now that you’ve sobered up?”

Rick chewed thoughtfully on a honey-slathered biscuit. What _did_ he think about all that? On one hand, he was just barely a year removed from Lori’s death, the wound healing slowly, but not quite scarred over and faded yet. Was this too fast? He’d never asked Hershel how long he waited until he thought about moving on, because the thought of moving on from Lori had seemed in insurmountable, impossible thing right up until he’d met Negan. He’d never even toyed with the idea. Hell, his wedding band still adorned his finger and he sometimes forgot to refer to Lori in the past tense. Kissing Negan hadn’t quite felt like he was cheating, but it had felt strange, like he was wading back into the ocean after nearly drowning.

But then…there was _Negan:_ this strangely thoughtful, sexy, confident man who looked at Rick was such intensity and ardor that Rick sometimes felt like he’d been thrown wholly off-balance. He was unexpected, to say the least. But Rick liked him. He could recall the kiss now, the heat of it and the low pull in his belly when Negan had licked into his mouth, tasting him like sweet wine, intoxicating him just as much as the whiskey had.

“I want to kiss you again,” Rick confessed simply, and Negan’s face lit up. The man was out of his seat and in front of Rick so fast that the dishes rattled on the tabletop, and Rick startled instinctively when Negan cupped his face, jerking a little before relaxing. “Wait.” Negan stuttered to a stop inches from Rick’s lips, his smile fading. “Can we just…take things slow?” the words felt familiar on his tongue, and he realized he’d asked for the same thing last night on the couch when their kiss had grown heated and hungry. “I like you a lot, Negan. I just never thought I’d be…I don’t know. I never saw myself with someone after Lori, especially so soon.”

“It’s been a year,” Negan supplied, a little pushy. He was still eyeing Rick’s lips, which were twitching into a frown.

“I was with her since I was in high school, Negan. I loved her- I _still_ love her. You of all people should understand that moving on from somethin’ like that doesn’t just _happen_.”

Negan’s face smoothed out a little, softening like butter spread over a warm biscuit. “You’re right. Shit, I’m sorry, Rick. I don’t wanna pressure you. We can go as slow as you like, okay?” His thumb stroked gently over Rick’s bristly jaw. “You still want that kiss?”

In lieu of answering, Rick leaning in close, his lips finding Negan’s in a slow, soft kiss that he could feel Negan physically holding back from deepening. As much as he desperately wanted more himself, there was something else tugging him back, a lingering sense of self-preservation. He was both relieved and disappointed when Negan returned to his seat and they finished their breakfast in amiable silence, feet bumping under the table. Negan cleared away their plates after Rick had to refuse a third helping of eggs- Negan put something in them that made them just a little spicy and a lot cheesy, and Rick had scarfed them down like a starving man.

“And don’t you think about comin’ near this sink, Rick. You’re not washing the dishes, no, sir.”

Rick stopped in his tracks with their empty glasses in his fists, caught red-handed. He chuckled, and then caught sight of the time on the stove clock. “Shit! I forgot that Carl’s been watchin’ Judith.” Guilt rapidly replaced the momentary peace he’d found at the table with Negan. _What kind of father are you, leavin’ your kids at home alone all night? You didn’t even text Carl to tell him you wouldn’t be back because you passed out on Negan’s goddamned couch._ Rick scooped up his phone and keys off the counter, planting a quick kiss on Negan’s cheek. He caught the man chasing his lips and smirked. “Just can’t get enough, can you?”

Negan shook his head, tongue swiping over his lips. “You know I can’t.”

“I need to get back home. It’s nearly noon, Christ, Judith’s probably been up for hours, and I told Carl I’d take the two of them out tonight, just the three of us.” He squeezed Negan’s hand where it lay on his arm. “Thank you. For last night, and for this morning. See you soon?”

“Fuckin’ count on it, Rick.”

* * *

Negan spent the rest of the afternoon and early evening watching Rick’s driveway through his window, checking it constantly to see when he and the kids left for the night. _He’s such a good dad_ , Negan thought affectionately, _always spending time with his kids. Takes them out to movies…imagine how much better it could be if he wasn’t the only one raising them. He must get so tired, working outside all day and then coming home to a toddler and a fucking teenager. I could help him. Hell, I’d be a stay-at-home daddy if he asked me. Or maybe he could quit his job and spend his life with me and the kids. He can’t like working at that damn farm. I’d let him live the good life, kick his feet up and spend his days at the park with Judith._

The Grimes family poured out of the front door and into the car around six, Judith tugging her father and brother along by the hands, clearly excited about the movie. Negan checked the movie times at the theater nearby- they were probably seeing the new Disney flick because of Judith, which meant he had a solid two hours.

_Two hours and Rick’s housekey._

Making a copy of Rick's key from the mold went off without a hitch, and Negan felt powerful with it in his hand. He waited until Rick’s silver hatchback had long disappeared down the road- counting off the seconds under his breath. _Don’t want to risk them coming because somebody forgot a phone or something._ He knew how to play this.

Five minutes after the heedless family had left for a fun-filled night at the movies, Negan was pulling on a black hoodie, grabbing a small drawstring bag, and slipping out his back door into the twilit nighttime.

It was almost too easy- no fence around the backyard, no dog to have to slip a couple of sleeping pills to keep them from barking, no sunlight to spotlight his comings and goings to nosy neighbors. The key slid into the lock with ease and then Negan was inside, standing in Rick’s darkened dining room.

 _One day_ , he thought as he slipped off his shoes and tucked them into the bag so he could pad silently around on socked feet, _I won’t need to sneak in the back like this. I’ll be allowed to come and go as I please. I’ll belong here._

He already felt like he belonged here now, stepping lightly through Rick’s downstairs and fingering over everything he could touch- family photos hanging on the wall, Judith’s crayon-and-magic-marker scribbles proudly displayed on the fridge with Sleeping Beauty magnets, a comic of Rick as a zombie slayer that had clearly been drawn by a much younger Carl, framed and mounted in the living room. Upon closer inspection, it was dated four years ago. Negan chuckled and wondered if Carl was embarrassed that his dad kept a drawing from when he was twelve framed on the wall. 

Negan didn’t dare turn on the lights for fear of neighbors seeing, so it was in the dark that he sprawled out on the couch, looking around Rick’s living room and inserting himself into the man’s cozy, domestic life. Maybe Judith could draw him as a superhero and Rick would hang it beside Carl’s artwork. Maybe he would start replacing Lori in all of the family photos that Rick displayed in loving memory- yeah, he liked that. There would be ones of the four of them on vacation, maybe at the beach or skiing up in the Appalachian Mountains. Carl could snap photos of them lying out on the sand, and Negan could take ones of Rick with his arms full of Judith as he waded into the water, his chest bare and tanned. Negan could teach the three of them how to ski, holding Judith’s hand as she took her first awkward steps in the snow. Maybe she’d start calling him daddy, too- or maybe Rick would want her to call Negan something different. _Papa_ \- that sounded right. Rick would be her daddy, Negan would be her papa.

And wedding photos- of course their wedding photos would hang right over the mantle of the fireplace, keeping Negan warmer than the soft, flickering flames ever could. He could see them in his mind’s eye already, new, yet-to-be-made memories replacing the existing ones already hanging there: Rick looking stunning and soft in a white suit, Negan himself in crisp black. There would be photos of them kissing at the altar, of Negan carrying Rick in his arms like his blushing bride, of them dancing to slow, sultry music while they held each other close.

_One day._

He forced himself up, deciding to treat himself to the upstairs next. He popped his head into Carl and Judith’s rooms for a brief moment- they weren’t the reason he was here, but he liked to have a full layout of the house cemented in his mind- and then took a deep breath before making a beeline to the crowning glory: Rick’s bedroom.

The door was closed, and somehow that made it _better_. Negan did love the chase, the slow reveal.

Rick’s bedroom was nothing extraordinary, not to the layman, anyway. It was simple, tasteful, a dark wooden dresser with a bedframe, bookshelf, and side table to match, a single upholstered armchair in the corner with a standing lamp beside it. There was a faded and bookmarked copy of _The Shining_ sitting in it, and the thought of Rick having a reading nook was too damn adorable for Negan to process. The bookshelf beside it was generous and varied, books stacked on top of the rows to make everything fit. Negan studied it for a moment- Rick read everything from Lovecraft to Whitman to the _Harry Potter_ series.

Negan rifled through Rick’s dresser drawers for a couple minutes, careful not to unfold his tidy shirts and jeans. He took a pause when he reached a drawer of Rick’s socks and underwear, and on impulse reached in and withdrew a pair of deep blue briefs and shoved them into his bag.

_A souvenir._

There were two photos atop Rick’s dresser: one of Carl and Judith that must have been taken at their old house shortly before they’d moved to Virginia. They were seated on a porch swing, Judith in Carl’s lap as they smiled for the camera, the backdrop summer-green and bright.

The second photo was of Rick and Lori sitting close together, Rick’s lips pressed to Lori’s rosy cheek while she laughed and clung to him, her slender fingers twined in the short curls at his nape. It was an unbearably cute photo, one that someone else had clearly taken for them because they were so overcome by the couple’s saccharine sweetness. Negan felt himself ready to gag just looking at it.

_That should be me. I bet my left nut she didn’t love him like I do. Man like that deserves the whole goddamned world, deserves everyone on their goddamned knees for him._

Negan glared at the photo for a long moment before grunting with irritation. As he turned away, he purposely jostled the dresser more than entirely necessary, testing-

The sound of wood and glass smacking into each other rang in his ears as sweet as church bells, and he left the shattered photo on the floor, satisfied. It was a risky, boneheaded move, and he knew that- it was better to be in and out without a trace lest Rick start getting suspicious, but he couldn’t help himself. He liked the thought of Rick finding it like that, _thinking did I do this? I must have just bumped it_ , having to pluck up the shards of glass with careful fingers, thinking to himself, _oh I’ll have to get a new frame_ , and then forgetting to get one every time he went to the store, and the photo would grow dusty and faded in the bottom of a drawer somewhere, forgotten.

He flopped onto Rick’s unmade bed. The rumpled sheets and indented pillows contrasted starkly with the rest of Rick’s bedroom, which was decently tidy. It made things easier for him, though. It was with giddy eagerness that Negan rifled through the drawer of Rick’s side table, hoping for something naughty- lube, a dildo, maybe a dirty magazine or two. He was disappointed to come up with nothing of intrigue, not even a box of condoms.

 _Has he not been thinking about getting laid? At all?_ Negan frowned, all but slamming the drawer shut. _Does he just assume I’ll have everything we need? Maybe that’s it- yeah, that’s got to be it. He’s probably never been with a man before…fuck, he probably doesn’t even know what kind of lube to get. Bet he walked down the aisle all shy and blushin’ like he does, and he didn’t know what to pick. Probably got him all worked up, though. Fuck, he doesn’t even know how to use his fingers on himself…I’ll have to show him everything, show him how goddamned good I can make him feel…_

Negan’s brief flash of annoyance faded away as he settled comfortably into Rick’s bed, pressing his face into the more worn-in pillow- _Rick’s pillow_ \- and inhaling deeply, catching the other man’s scent on the clean linen. _I’ll be sleeping in this bed beside him one day, and it won’t smell like him anymore, everything will just smell like the two us merged together. Me and him._ He was hard- of _course_ he was hard, it felt like he’d been on the verge of it since he’d crept into the backyard. Not only was he in Rick’s home, in his _bed_ , but there was also the accompanying thrill of knowing that he wasn’t technically supposed to be here, not yet.

But Negan was a deeply impatient man, which was only one of his many character flaws that had made themselves apparent to him over the course of his life. Seeing Rick that first afternoon, his hair tousled and curling in the wind, his face the sun itself, Negan felt like his whole world had shifted, like all the years that had gone by since Lucille had actually been worth something after all. Since the first glimpse of Rick Grimes, Negan been counting down the seconds until he could start the rest of his life with him. In his mind, it was inevitable, as sure and set as the passing of each day, Rick would be his for the keeping. After Lucille, Negan had stopped believing in ephemeral things such as fate and destiny, but now? Now, he would stake his life on the fact that his and Rick’s names were intertwined and etched in stone, their lives permanently and beautifully intersecting. And if that was all true, what did it really matter if he got a little ahead of himself? Rick didn’t need to know, and Negan sprawling in his sheets now it wasn’t hurting him in the least.

Negan unzipped his jeans and slid a hand down the front, slow, slow, _achingly_ slow, like he imagined Rick would be at first before Negan coaxed him open. His eyes fluttered closed, and he tried to imagine his own familiar hand was Rick’s foreign one- a little rougher than his own due to farmwork, nervous and hesitant but skilled nonetheless.

The images came to him so naturally, more proof that he and Rick were meant to be. As he stroked himself, he thought of Rick’s face with brows furrowed and lips parted, concentrating on Negan’s pleasure as if it was his life’s purpose. He’d get bolder as he went, of that Negan was sure, and he would encourage him all along the way.

_Beautiful, just fuckin’ perfect, darlin’, can’t believe you’ve never done this before. You’ve been holding out on me._

Rick would blush, pleased and embarrassed all at once, and maybe he’d surprise himself by getting hard as he got Negan off. _Fuck, that would be something_ , Negan thought, working himself faster and faster. Sweet-as-syrup Rick Grimes getting hot and bothered by a few dirty words and a dick in his hand. _Fuck, imagine him with my dick down his throat. Down on his knees, stripped to nothing, sucking me like I’m his last goddamned meal…and he’d get hard but he wouldn’t want to stop because he fucking loves having a thick fucking cock in his mouth. Fuck, he’d love it._ Bruised lips, sore jaw, eyes huge and watery-blue and determined. _He’d have his hands on my hips like he couldn’t get enough, but then he just wouldn’t be able to fucking take it, and he’d start touching himself. Sliding one hand up and down on that pretty dick, dripping onto his fingers, so fucking wet that I can hear it-_

“ _Rick-!_ ”

Rick’s name flew from Negan’s lips when he reached his peak, and he rode it out, hips chasing the slide of his fist until he couldn’t stand the touch anymore. The temptation to leave his mark on Rick’s bed was tempting, but he knew better than that. After he caught his breath, Negan dipped into the bathroom to rinse the evidence of his release from his hand and stomach.

Negan had never been one to shy away from the mirror- he was attractive, and he knew it, and if the occasion called for it, he could play it up to his advantage. Looking at himself now, though, in Rick’s bathroom with pinked cheeks and hazy, glazed eyes, he thought, _this is how I want to look all the goddamned time. Every night after I fuck Rick into a coma, every morning that I wake him up with a quickie before we have to get out of bed and take the kiddos to school. Every afternoon delight, every moment stolen away with him._

He got a little more caught up than he’d intended, rifling through Rick’s drawers and making mental notes of clothing sizes- _imagine how fucking surprised he’ll be when I give him shirts that fit perfectly, jeans that hug that cute ass just right…and I bet I could make him get all sweet and red-faced if I got him something nice to wear to bed for me_. _Silk boxers, briefs so tiny that it’ll be like he’s wearing nothing at all…_

Normally, Negan prided himself on how goddamned careful he was- vigilant and forward-thinking to a T. He learned from his mistakes- to repeat history was to be a fool, and Negan was no fool.

Except then, as he was digging through Rick’s closet to flip through yet another old family photo album, he heard the telltale sound of a car rolling up the driveway.

 _Shit_.

He sat frozen for a moment, stunned by his own foolishness. The clock on Rick’s bedside table didn’t lie, though, and those hateful little numbers let Negan know that he’d lost track of time. He could hear Judith’s voice coming up the drive, singing some song about _remembering me_ that must have been from their movie.

_Fuck, fuck, fuck-!_

Negan _moved_ , scooping the albums into his arms and quickly shoving them back into place on the top shelf of Rick’s closet before closing it back up. _Wait, shit, was the closet closed when I got here? Fucking shit- no, it was, I’m sure it was._

Footsteps pounded up the porch in time with Negan’s racing heart as he tried to remember if he’d left anything else out of place. Rick’s bed had already been in a disarray, he’d been sure to close all the doors behind him as he’d looked through the individual rooms, all the drawers were closed-

_“Remember me, though I have to say goodbye, remember me, don't let it make you cry…”_

Judith’s voice rang through the house, adorably off-key in a way only little kids’ voices could be. Any other day, her sweet song would have made Negan’s heart swell and he would have charmed Rick by asking the little angel to teach him the words so he could sing along, but _now_ -

“Daddy, sing!” Judith insisted in that sweetly-demanding way she had. Negan could practically picture her tugging on the hem of Rick’s jacket. “Pretty please?”

There was shuffling at the foot of the staircase, and Negan’s heart stopped. There was a window leading out to the backyard and he debated jumping and making a run for it- but the open window would make it obvious that someone had been inside, and what if he fell wrong or someone saw him from downstairs?

Rick’s soft, ambling crooning made its way through the house and up to Negan’s ears, and the sound of it made Negan fall a little more in love with him.

_“For ever if I'm far away, I hold you in my heart. I sing a secret song to you each night we are apart…”_

He heard footsteps creak up the stairs as the two continued to sing, and in a fit of panic Negan crawled beneath Rick’s bed, saying a prayer to whatever merciful god had allowed him enough space to fit beneath it. He had never considered himself worthy of mercy, but god knew he constantly found himself in dire need of it.

Judith was down one shoe when her feet came into view from the open bedroom door, one rainbow sock slip-sliding on the hardwood floor. Negan watched with waited breath as Carl stepped carefully around her and into his bedroom, calling out a flippant, “yeah, dad!” when Rick hollered up the stairs at him to remember to switch loads of laundry before he got too into talking to someone named _Enid_.

The breath left Negan’s lungs and fogged over the floor in time with Rick’s heavy footsteps up the stairs. The soft, huffed chuckle when he stopped in front of Judith made Negan’s heart clench- _such a beautiful fucking sound._

“You lose somethin’, sweet pea?”

“I got it!” Judith answered, presumably waving her tiny green sneaker up at her dad. “I can’t get the other one…”

Judith’s feet disappeared from the floor as Rick swept her up into his arms and walked down the hall. “Daddy’s gotta teach you how to untie your shoes, Jude. You keep waitin’ on them to fall off your feet.”

Negan’s eyes fluttered closed for a single blissful moment, imagining himself inserted into this moment of domestic bliss. It was getting late now- he could hear Rick and Judith’s low murmurs in the next room over, talking about getting into PJ’s and brushing teeth. He wondered if Rick read Judith bedtime stories- he seemed like the sort of dad that would. Did he do funny voices for each of the characters? Maybe one day he’d let Negan do the honors and Judith would fall asleep to him reenacting stories of pirates and princess and Sesame Street. He could do a really good Oscar the Grouch, and he’d bet anything that Judith would adore it.

And then, in a flash of horror-filled realization, Negan remembered.

His bag, with Rick’s pilfered underwear and key and _Negan’s fucking shoes_ , was still sitting on the floor beside Rick’s dresser.

_Fuckity fucking dick-sucking fuck._

He scooted a little closer to the foot of the bed, craning one ear toward Judith’s room to listen in and make sure that they were both staying put. There had been two toothbrushes in the bathroom at the end of the hall, a plain red one and a Pokémon one, so that had to be the bathroom Carl and Judith shared. Unless Carl popped out of his bedroom for some reason, he should be in the clear to snatch his bag and drag it beneath the bed with him like the Boogeyman.

He took a deep, steadying breath and slid out from beneath Rick’s bed, not making a peep as he crept slowly across the room and grabbed the bag, quietly sliding it beneath the bed where he’d been moments ago. He had just gotten back beneath it himself when there was the patter of tiny feet toward him. "Grab your toothpaste real quick Jude, don't hide in there again," Rick called down the hall after his daughter. 

_Fuck._

Negan was sure his heart was about to crack a rib, and sweat beaded at his hairline, slipping down his neck and soaking into his thin t-shirt. He yanked the hood of his jacket up around his head and cinched it tight enough so that he could just barely see through it. At least now if someone spotted him he could be anyone, just a faceless intruder-

Judith's bare feet reappeared in Rick's doorway and padded along toward the adjoining bathroom. Negan saw it a second before it happened, wincing when the little girl, single-minded in her quest for toothpaste, stepped on one of the shards of glass from the broken photo. 

There was a moment of breathless silence before she wailed aloud, tripping backward and hitting the ground hard as she clutched at her injured foot. Guilt pierced through Negan when he saw wet smears of red across the hardwood floor and on Judith's left foot. 

" _Da-daddy!_ " she hiccuped through her sobs, and then two things happened at once, each of them more terrifying than the next. 

Rick's footsteps came thudding down the hall, and Judith, still slightly sprawled on the floor, glanced to her left and caught sight of Negan's dark, prone form beneath her father's bed. 

She positively _screamed_ , too overcome by pain and fear to do anything else, and then Rick was there, scooping her into his arms and shushing her while she cried. 

"Oh, oh, Jude. That picture must have fallen...I'm sorry, sweetheart...god, there's glass everywhere. Let me see- c'mon, we're gonna go get you cleaned up, okay? It's okay." Rick sounded just as shaken as Negan felt, that protective papa-bear voice laden with sadness. 

"Daddy, d-daddy, I-" Judith whimpered as they headed down the hallway and out of Negan's line of vision. She seemed to be unable to get a hold of herself long enough to speak, and Negan prayed she'd stay that way until he could make a break for it. It sounded like they were nearly back in the hall bathroom when she finally found her voice. "Daddy, there's someone- someone under the bed."

Negan was fucked. Incredibly, irrevocably fucked. 

"Under the bed? Jude, there's nothing under your bed but your toys-"

"Not under _my_ bed," Judith whimpered, and Negan impulsively slid himself back out from under the bed and slipped into Rick's closet, clutching the bag to his chest. Just in case Rick decides to check.

It turned out to be a good call, because after some mumbling down the hall, there were more heavy footsteps in Rick's room. Negan watched between the slats of the door as Rick peered beneath the bed and shook his head. "I just checked, Jude! There's nothing here, I promise." 

Negan stayed put in the closet for a while after that, listening intently as Judith was tended to and bandaged up- it sounded like her cut wasn't that deep, thank god. After she'd been put to bed, Rick cleaned up the glass and stepped into his own bathroom. After a moment, Negan ditched the closet and slid back under the bed- he didn't want to risk Rick opening it to put away clothes or grab a shirt. 

Now, all there was left to do was wait. Even though the whole Judith ordeal had passed without him getting caught, he still felt dangerously on edge. 

_You stupid fucking asshole, you almost ruined everything. What the fuck were you gonna say if you got caught? What’s gonna happen if Rick drops something under the bed and crouches down and sees you? You really screwed the fucking pooch. Better hope that Rick’s a heavy sleeper._

* * *

Negan got lucky in one way, at least- the Grimes family seemed pretty tuckered out after their movie night, and in less than a half hour, Judith was fast asleep, Carl was holed up in his bedroom, and Rick was in his own room, brushing his teeth and readying himself for bed. Negan chanced a glance over when he heard clothes dropping to the floor, and watched as Rick’s old, worn cowboy boots were kicked off and set against the closet door, his belt and jeans pooling as his bare feet, his gray button-up shed into the laundry basket.

Cheek pressed to the cool floor, Negan watched Rick pad into the bathroom clad only in black boxer-briefs. _God_ , the man’s body was artwork, unworthy to be touched by anything less than the most careful, reverent hands. His pert little ass looked even more fuckable in tight cotton-spandex, and Negan ached to hook his fingers into the waistband and draw them down Rick’s strong, thick thighs. _Fuck, those legs are really something else. Can just imagine them around my head as I suck him off…push them up a little higher so I can eat him out until he’s begging for my dick…_

Rick crawled into bed a few short minutes later, clicking the lamp off so that they were both shrouded in inky blackness. Soft, deep breaths could be heard coming from above. There was something intimate, Negan thought, about listening so intently to Rick’s steady breathing, waiting for the telltale heaviness of sleep to seep into the sound.

The mattress dipped gently as Rick tossed and turned a few times, getting comfortable before he settled in for the night. It didn’t take long after that for his breaths to grow deep and steady, soft almost-but-not-quite snores coming from the topside of the bed. Negan gave it another few minutes, just to be sure that Rick was really out, before sliding his bag out from beneath with the utmost cautiousness. Rick didn’t stir, not as the bag was nudged out from the foot of the bed, not as Negan began to squirm out from the side closest to the curtained window. He was halfway out from beneath one arm and leg free, when Rick rolled over in his sleep, one strong, bare arm dangling off the side of the bed just inches from Negan’s startled face. He swore he could _feel_ the stutter in his chest as terror gripped him, and the tang of blood filled his mouth as he bit down hard on his tongue to keep from making the slightest noise or breath.

All was quiet save for Rick’s peaceful exhales. He was still fast asleep, blissfully unaware of the panicked man staring up at him. They were so close that Negan could feel the heat of Rick’s skin, could easily make out the pale glow of his fingers in the darkness. The barest bit of light filtering in from the hallway glinted off Rick’s golden wedding band, and all at once Negan was overcome with a want so strong that he could feel it burning through his blood.

As always, Negan’s desire made him do something reckless.

All he had to do was raise his head a couple short inches, and Rick’s fingertips brushed his lips. The touch made him shudder with delight, and he kissed each finger with reverence and love before his tongue flicked out, running the length of two before taking them into his mouth. Rick’s fingers tasted clean, his nails trimmed short, and as Negan rolled them in his mouth, he imagined them doing this in a very different setting, with Rick wide awake and his cornflower eyes glinting with lustful mischief as Negan took his fingers between his lips, the promise of what was coming hanging thickly in the air like a low fog. _Once I get him in bed and on my dick a few times, he’ll be a fucking tease, I just know it. I’ll bet he’s shy in the sack at first, but after we get each other naked the first few times, he’ll be a little minx. I won’t be able to keep him off me._

With a shudder, Negan forced himself to pull away. He could already feel his jeans beginning to grow tight at the crotch, and he couldn’t risk making any kind of noise and waking Rick up, not when he was so close to being home free. He made his way out from the bed and then stood arrested, lingering for a moment at Rick’s bedside.

Rick’s sleeping form was just barely visible in the dark of his bedroom, but Negan still found it nearly impossible to look away. He was curled in on himself, sleeping on his side with one arm beneath the pillow and the other dangling off the bed. He slept on the left, the right side tousled comfortably like a handwritten invitation for someone to come curl up with him.

 _One day_ , Negan promised himself. _One day soon, you’ll be there with him._

He managed to tear his gaze away from Rick after a long moment, but not without a little something- a photo of the sleeping man snapped quickly with his cellphone. With his bag over his shoulder and his footsteps careful and silent, Negan crept out of Rick’s bedroom, down the stairs, and out the back door, careful to lock it again before slipping back into his own home, relief and adrenaline pumping through his body and making him feel lightheaded with giddiness.

Two glasses of bourbon later, he was upstairs, his nerves calmed enough to allow him to crawl into bed. From his bag he pulled out his souvenir, the soft fabric clutched in his fist as he inhaled deeply, catching the faint, musky scent of _Rick_ still clinging to the stolen briefs.

_A job well fucking done._


	5. Separate

Rivulets of sweat trickled slowly down Rick’s bare back, his sun-kissed skin glistening with the fruits of his labor and muscles rolling as he dug out another chunk of stone embedded in the ground along the pathway he and a few others had been clearing through the dense woods beyond the pumpkin patches.

Farm work was hard- physical and exhausting and grimy, and it was an unusual day when Rick was clocking out without sore muscles and a dull ache in his back. It felt _good_ , though. There was hardly a second he didn’t love it, and even on days like this where the labor was back-breaking and menial, if was rewarding in a way that he worried he wouldn’t feel about another job after he left the sheriff’s department.

This late into autumn, most of the work consisted of tending to the existing crops and gathering up everything that was ripe so that it could be carted off to the farmer’s market on the town square. September was beginning to wane, though, and Rick and the other farmhands had begun preparations for October- the busy season, as the seasoned workers called it. Once the pumpkins started ripening and the weather turned brisk, the farm would be open to families for pumpkin-picking and hayrides. For the first time since Lori’s passing, Rick was actually looking forward to Halloween.

“Need a hand, Sheriff?”

Rick squinted up to see his fellow farmhand and newfound friend Tara eyeing the large stone Rick was trying to singlehandedly dig out of the cloying dirt. Rick cracked a smile and nodded gratefully. “Definitely couldn’t hurt. I swear this thing goes another foot down.” They dug their shovels into the ground together, slowly working the stone free. It didn’t quite go down a foot, but Rick was more than happy to have Tara along to make quick work of pulling it out and dumping it into the wheelbarrow beside them.

“Sheriff, huh?” Rick mused as Tara dusted offer her dirty work gloves. “Don’t get that a lot these days.”

Tara smiled and reached out to flick the brim of his hat. “I can’t tell if you’re joking.”

Rick chuckled. “I'm not. It’s usually just ‘cowboy’. For obvious reasons.” He’d long since ditched the badge that had once adorned his sheriff’s hat, so most people who saw him donning it at work to keep the sun off his face threw friendly cowboy jokes his way. He didn’t mind- most of the people that worked the farm had nicknames and inside jokes among themselves, and it felt nice to be a part of something again.

“I know a sheriff hat when I see one,” Tara replied. “I was in the academy for a few months right out of high school. I was bound and determined to be the one out there catching the bad guys…right up until I learned that most of the job’s just paperwork, especially in a quiet town like the one I lived in.” She shrugged sheepishly. “I feel kinda stupid for telling you that. Cop-school dropout talking to someone who actually lived that life.” Her cheeks, already rosy from the heat, colored a little more deeply, and Rick felt a surge of almost brotherly kinship with this sweet, quirky girl.

“No need to feel stupid,” Rick assured her with a squeeze on the shoulder. “It _is_ a lot of paperwork. Town I worked in before I moved here was less than half this size. Usually the most action we saw was some drunk and disorderly at Paddy’s Bar or some high school kids smokin’ pot out by the train tracks.”

He saw Tara’s eyes flash down to the rounded scar on his left side and knew what was coming before she could find a polite way to ask. He touched it lightly, forever marveling at how small prods at that spot no longer felt like a knife though him. “I did say _usually_.”

“I wasn’t- I didn’t mean to stare,” Tara fumbled awkwardly, blushing madly. “I’m not- it wasn’t like _that_. I don’t even like- you’re a guy, I mean, and you’re like-” Tara gestured to Rick with her nose wrinkled and Rick glanced down at himself with a frown. Sure, he wasn’t exactly a gym rat, but he though he looked alright… “Shit! I mean- it’s not that you look _bad!_ ” Tara tried again, picking up on his reaction. “For a guy, I mean. It’s just- I’m not into guys. I like girls. I’m a big ol’ lesbian! So you’re just- you’re not my type, you know? That’s all I…fuck.” Tara buried her face in her hands. “What was I saying?”

Rick chuckled and decided to take pity on her. “That you weren’t checking me out.”

“I wasn’t!” Tara laughed and shook her head, dark hair clinging to her neck. “Shit, sorry. I didn’t think I had that many feet, but I just kept putting them in my mouth.”

“It’s alright,” Rick assured her. “Really. And in case you’re curious, I was shot on the job. It was a while back. That wasn’t the norm, though.” He dug another smaller rock out of the ground and tossed it into the wheelbarrow with the others.

“Sorry for uh…being nosy,” Tara said.

Rick waved her apology off. “It’s alright. I don't mind.”

“Anyway,” Tara said, trying to steer the conversation away from her blunders. “You looking forward to your first Halloween here?”

Rick smiled to himself. “I am, actually. It’s been a while since I looked forward to Halloween, but I think bein’ here’s helping. Carol said I was more than welcome to bring the kids by to pick out a couple pumpkins and go for a free hayride. I think Judith’ll really like that, and I know Carl misses carving pumpkins.”

“Do you not normally like Halloween?” Tara asked, picking up on the undercurrent in Rick’s voice.

A familiar melancholy nostalgia swept over Rick as memories came flooding in: Lori and Carl at the kitchen table, up to their elbows in pumpkin guts; the three of them walking the neighborhood with glowsticks and reflective bracelets that Carl got from McGruff the Crime Dog at his elementary school safety rally. “My wife- she was really into Halloween. Always decorated the house with cobwebs and fake tombstones, made fruit punch with fake eyeballs in it, helped Carl make all his costumes. She’d dress up, too- even back when I first met her she’d dress up every Halloween, party or not, just because. First year we dated, we were just stayin’ in for the night to watch the _Scream_ marathon on tv, and when she answered the door, she was dressed up like the bride of Frankenstein, body paint and all.” He laughed fondly at the memory. “I came home that night and looked in the mirror and my face was all smudged with green and black.”

Tara gave him that little half-smile people always did when he talked about Lori and they weren’t sure how to react. Over the few weeks he’d worked at the farm, Rick’s status as a widower had spread through the grapevine so that everyone knew. He didn’t mind, not really, he just wished that people wouldn’t look at him like he was still freshly in mourning. Sure, he missed Lori- some days were worse than others. Just a few days ago when he’d found the photo of the two of them smashed on the floor, apparently knocked off his dresser in his haste to get the kids out the door, he’d had to swallow down tears so that Judith didn’t see. But slowly, surely, he was recovering.

“Well, Halloween’s real fun here. You should see Ezekiel get into the spirit! He sews all the costumes for the Haunted Hayride and goes all-out with the narration. He used to do some theater when he was younger. His witch cackle is…unnerving.” Tara’s smile was less pitying now, more encouraging. “I’m sure your kids will love it.”

* * *

Rick and Lori had never wanted their children to be latch-key kids- Lori’s mom had died when she was young and her father was a textbook workaholic, married to his job even before his wife’s passing, so when Carl was born, she had opted to scale back her hours so she could work mostly from home. It was harder now, being the sole parent, to always be there for Carl and Judith, but luckily Carol and Ezekiel were big on family themselves. Their three kids worked on the farm alongside their parents when they weren’t in school, and luckily for Rick, Carl got on well with the couple’s older children, Sophia and Ben. Most days, Carl rode home from school with them and hung around on the farm while Rick finished up work. Some days, Ben would pick up Judith from daycare and bring her along as well.

It was almost like being back at Hershel’s, and slowly but surely Kingdom Farms began to feel like Rick’s home away from home.

Life was good- better than it had been in years. For all that Rick missed King County and the Greenes, getting a change of scenery had been the right call. Carl had new friends, Judith was getting along with her new teachers and classmates, and Rick had found something worth getting out of bed for again.

And then there was Negan.

In the years since Lori’s passing, Rick hadn’t given much thought to _moving on_ in the romantic sense. It seemed unthinkable, like a betrayal, almost. And some days, when Negan slid a warm palm up his thigh beneath the dinner table, or kissed him on the couch with sweet wine on his lips, or gripped Rick’s hips so that images of them moving together beneath the bedsheets filled Rick’s mind, he still felt a tiny twinge of irrational guilt. And maybe it was that guilt that kept him from going further with Negan. God knew it had to be _something_ , because Rick’s body was positively craving what Negan had to offer. More and more often, Rick found himself pulling away with flushed cheeks and a needy bulge in his jeans that he desperately wanted to ask Negan to take care of.

 _Slow_ , he had to remind himself in those moments when Negan’s mouth and his hands looked so enticing that Rick could practically _feel_ them wrapped around him. _It’s only been a few weeks. You’ve been out of the game for a long time- you need to take this slow._

He could tell Negan was a little frustrated. He felt particularly guilty about the evening they’d spent together a few days ago. It had been a school night, kids had tucked into bed, and the two of them had curled around each other on the sofa with the pretense of watching _Ocean’s Eleven_. Clooney had barely been released from prison before they’d been intertwined, Rick’s shirt unbuttoned and Negan’s mouth teasing his nipples while they’d ground against each other like teenagers.

Rick couldn’t account for himself- one moment Negan was rutting between his spread legs and kissing his neck, and the next Rick was nudging him away, asking him to stop. He hadn’t wanted to stop- his body hadn’t, anyway. His neglected erection had practically screamed at him for repeating those same words to Negan for what felt like the hundredth time- _let’s go slow._

He didn’t know what else could be holding him back. Negan was sweet, he was thoughtful and good with the kids and a damn fine cook, and if the almost-sex they’d been having on each other’s couches and up against walls was anything to go on, he’d be a damn good lover when Rick was finally ready for him. He always touched Rick like he was something precious and breakable- not in a _you’re-so-fragile_ sort of way, but in a reverent, yearning way that one might handle precious relics. He called him _beautiful, gorgeous, sweetheart, honey, darlin’, baby, sexy_ \- things that made Rick laugh and blush all at once. He seemed to always be available when Rick needed him, rain or shine. Just last week when Rick’s hatchback had gotten a flat tire on the way back from picking up Judith, Negan had driven out in a thunderstorm to pick the whole family up and offered to pay for a replacement tire to boot. Rick had refused- he could afford a damn _tire_ on his own- but still. It was nice to have someone around who cared so much for him.

* * *

Rick was gone _all the goddamned time_ these days, and it was driving Negan up the fucking wall.

He _missed_ him. It had been bad enough when Rick had been gone half the day at the farm, but now he was gone on the occasional evening, too. It was the third night in two weeks that Rick had just not come home after work, and it was beginning to grate Negan’s nerves.

The first time, and he wasn’t proud of it, he’d flipped his shit. He’d spent the whole evening sitting by the window waiting on Rick to pull up so he could surprise him with the homemade fettuccine alfredo he’d spent all afternoon perfecting…and Rick had never arrived.

An hour into waiting, Negan had down the whole bottle of wine he’d bought to go with the now-ruined dinner. He’d let the lit candles burn down to nothing, wax dripping onto the tablecloth. The pasta and sauce had gone cold, the unwashed dishes congealing with grease in the sink.

He probably shouldn’t have called Rick, as drunk as he was.

He definitely shouldn’t have texted him a half dozen times when Rick didn’t pick up. But he was hurt and furious and boisterously drunk, fearing the worst: that Rick Grimes, the man he loved, was out cheating on him with someone else.

By the time Rick had finally gotten back to him over an hour later, the dishes the Negan had laid out for them were smashed on the dining room floor and every bit of the food had been dumped unceremoniously into the garbage.

Negan was only thankful that he’d worked off enough rage to remain aloof when Rick called him back and explained that, “ _No, Negan, nobody kidnapped me and the kids, we stayed late at the farm. Yeah, we’re all okay, I promise. No, it’s not like that, a couple of the other farmhands invited me out for a drink. Shit- I wish you'd let me know you had dinner planned, I would have come by. Some other time, okay? You have a good night, I'll see you soon.”_

A good night. As if it was possible to have a good night when Rick was off with whoever-the-hell drinking god-knows-what. Rick didn’t drink a lot- someone could get him drunk and take advantage of him. Rick would never _purposely_ cheat- in the sobering light of day, Negan knew that. But someone could corner him, flirt with him without him ever realizing it. He gritted his teeth together, kicking the coffee table and sending the remote skittering across the floor and underneath an armchair. _I can just picture it now, some fucking whore putting their hands all over him. Oh, Rick, you’re so strong. Dumb, obvious shit, and Rick’s such a fucking sweetheart that he wouldn’t even realize._

Whenever he could, Negan checked Rick’s phone. Rick rarely left it unattended, but Negan settled for the quick couple minutes he got while Rick was in the bathroom or putting Judith to bed. There were only a few new people Rick talked to- a girl named Tara that Negan actually recognized because she was dating the woman who coached the high school girl’s volleyball team. He didn’t have to worry about her, at least, but there were a couple others that Rick had mentioned in passing- Aaron and Michonne. Aaron was cute and openly gay, and sure, he had a boyfriend, but that didn’t mean a damn thing in Negan’s book. Who the hell wouldn’t leave their partner for Rick? And Michonne was the double whammy- a gorgeous lawyer whose four year old, Andre, was one of Judith’s best friends from school. She and Rick took the kids on _playdates_. Which meant that they talked and shared food and probably sat across from each other at the table, maybe knocking knees or brushing fingertips when they split an order of fries.

The whole thing made his stomach turn.

* * *

Rick was nearly done mucking out the horse stables when Negan pulled into the little patch of gravel reserved for parking at Kingdom Farms. In one of his seemingly infinite gestures of generosity, he’d offered to pick up the kids after school and drive them down to meet Rick at work. “It’s no problem at all, darlin’. I’ve been missin’ your pretty face anyway. I feel like I’ve hardly seen you lately!” Negan had said when Rick insisted that it was too much trouble to go to. Rick, admittedly, didn’t protest too much. Despite Negan living right next door, it had been nearly a week since Rick had found time to see him. There had been a contagious strain of some kind of virus sweeping through the farm’s population of pigs, and the last few days had been haywire with everyone trying to quarantine the sick swine and keep the disease from spreading any further.

“Daddy!”

Rick dropped his shovel just in time to see Judith flying towards him for a bear hug, heedless of the fact that her father was dripping with sweat and reeking of horse manure.

“Hey, sweet pea,” Rick crooned, chuckling as his daughter clung to his neck like a koala as he lifted her into his arms and pressed a kiss to her wild blonde hair.

"I found Negan's perfume," Judith announced proudly, and the second she said it, Rick caught a whiff of Negan’s favorite cologne even over the stench of the stables. It was more than a whiff, actually- it was like Judith had bathed in it. He wrinkled his nose and quirked an eyebrow at Negan.

“Sorry, Rick,” Negan said with a sheepish shrug of his shoulders. “I forgot I stuck an old bottle in the backseat pocket and she gave it a couple sprays before she realized it wasn't her scent. Probably should have taken it in the house ages ago before it spilled, but I like to be date-night-ready, you know?” He dropped a flirty wink that made Rick grin even though he was awash in a cloud of horse shit and Chanel for men.

“I do know,” Rick agreed, carefully setting Judith down in a patch of fresh, clean hay. “Thank you for pickin’ them up. Means a lot to me that you’d go out of your way like that.” Rick waved to Carl, who was already mostly engrossed in watching something on Sophia’s phone with her over by the pumpkin patch.

Negan slid into Rick’s space with ease, one arm wrapping Rick’s waist. “I told you, honey: it’s nothin’. Anything for you.” He kissed Rick on the cheek before pulling away with an exaggerated grimace. “You know I adore you, but god _damn_ , you smell…like shit.”

Rick gestured to the wheelbarrow full of soiled hay, one eyebrow arched. “Can’t imagine why.”

That earned him a chuckle, and Negan made a show of holding his breath while giving Rick a teasing kiss on the lips. “Go shower up, baby. I’ll keep Jude entertained while you’re gone. She was askin’ me about the _ponies_ the whole ride here. You know I love that litte angel of yours, Rick, but if I have to hear the damn My Little Pony theme song one more time…” he mimed choking himself, and Rick laughed and swatted him playfully on the ass before taking up his shovel again.

“I shouldn’t be long,” he promised. “I’m about done here. Hey- they’ve got apple pie ice cream right now.” Rick knelt down to look Judith in the eye, seeing how her face lit up at the mere mention of ice cream. “My friend Aaron made it this morning, and he let me have a taste. It’s _real_ good. How about after I’m done, we all go get some?”

Sometimes, being a parent was all discipline and making the hard decisions, about doling out punishments for sneaking into an R-rated movie or withholding dessert because someone refused to try even the tiniest bite of the baked ziti that was _exactly like spaghetti, Judith, just with different noodles._ But sometimes, it was about promising ice cream to an overzealous three-year-old, and the look of sheer delight on Judith’s face made every pouty face and crying tantrum worth it.

* * *

Rick stepped out of the small staff locker room feeling delightfully clean. There really was nothing quite like a shower after marinating in horse stench for nine hours. His hair was wet and slicked back out of his face and he was donning a new change of clothes that weren’t caked in filth. He felt about ten pounds lighter when he sauntered up to Negan, who was diligently watching a giddy Judith pet one of the friendlier horses- a young mare named Buttercup- through the gaps in the pasture fence. Rick slid onto the bench beside Negan, their thighs pressing together.

“She been good for you?”

Negan practically purred in response to Rick’s closeness, winding his long arms around him and nuzzling his face into the tender skin of Rick’s neck. “She’s been an absolute _angel_ , daddy Grimes. Cross my heart. She’s been gettin’ on real well with this little lady right here.” Negan nodded to Buttercup, who was basking in Judith’s endless affection. “Might wanna watch out unless you want to start buildin’ a ranch on your back forty. Jude’s got that horsey fever.”

Rick’s soft hum turned into a bitten-off groan as Negan began kissing at his throat with warm lips. “That right?”

“Mm-hm,” Negan rumbled, pulling Rick closer by the waist and kissing his way up to his lips. “But I don’t wanna talk about that right now.”

“Yeah?” Rick breathed, heart stuttering in his chest when his lips grazed Negan’s as they spoke. _Fuck_ , it really had been too long. Even a week without the man’s touch left him craving something more than the teasing game they were playing now. Rick’s lips found Negan’s jawline, and he kissed his way up to the other man’s ear to whisper, “What _do_ you wanna talk about, then?” in a low, sultry murmur that rolled through Negan like a wave.

Negan’s fingers were tight on his hips as he began to reply. “Wanna talk about what you’re doin’ after this-”

“Oh, shit! Sorry, damn-” Rick’s head jerked up at the familiar sound of Tara’s voice, and he saw her averting her gaze from the wanton display taking place on the bench in front of the horse pasture. Rick cleared his throat, a little embarrassed to have been caught necking with Negan by his coworker.

“Tara, uh- this is Negan. Negan, this is Tara…” Tara offered a shy, awkward handshake that Negan took with some amusement.

“I think I work with your girlfriend,” Negan said, tapping his chin with one long finger. “Rosita Espinosa?”

Tara’s eyes lit up with that lovestruck glee that Rick knew too well. “Yeah, that’s her! You teach at the high school?”

Negan nodded. “Sure do. I’m the gym teacher there. Rosita’s a goddamn spitfire- you’re a lucky girl.”

Tara beamed, pride radiating from her like rays of the sun. “I am,” she agreed before turning back to Rick. “I didn’t know you liked men!”

Rick felt heat touch his face. “It never came up.”

“Which is something I _never_ say around him,” Negan chimed in, and if Rick hadn’t been blushing before, he surely was now.

Tara snickered. “Well, you’re in for it now, Rick. A cowboy that’s into other cowboys? It’s all Brokeback Mountain jokes from here, dude.” She gave Rick a friendly wave as she headed for her car, and Judith, upon hearing that her father had returned, had one of his hands clasped between both her tiny ones so she could tug him toward the farm’s little shop.

“Can we get ice cream _now_?” she sighed dramatically, like Rick had been gone for hours instead of twenty short minutes.

Rick schooled his face into something resolute instead of cracking a grin- which is what he wanted to do, and what Negan was doing over Judith’s head. “How do we ask for things, Jude?” 

Judith kept ahold of his hand, but stopped tugging long enough to say, with much less sighing, “ _please_ can we get ice cream now?”

Rick nodded, satisfied. “We can. Do you know where Carl-”

“Right here,” Carl chimed in from behind Rick. “Ben and Sophia have chores. Did you say ice cream?”

“Sure did!” Negan crowed, already heading for the swinging barn-style doors. “On me, kid.”

Rick’s smile slipped just a fraction as his kids charged the shop and began pouring over cone options. Negan held the door as Rick stepped inside, the mouthwatering scent of fresh waffle cones permeating the small space. Most of the farm’s produce went to the local farmer’s market to be sold, but there were a few specialties that were sold out of a small renovated barn right on the farm. There was the little ice cream parlor that had seasonal flavors- Rick knew Judith would love the fresh strawberry in the summertime. There were jars of fruit preserves and boxes of Carol’s surprisingly delicious acorn cookies and hand-sewn plush farm animals that Rick had learned were Ezekiel’s doing. Every so often, they’d take in some locally made goods that weren’t quite wholesome enough for the farmer’s market. The second week Rick had worked there, he’d walked in to see Carol receiving a delivery from a long-haired man wearing a beaten-up leather vest who had introduced himself as Daryl Dixon. Daryl had been kind enough, if a bit gruff, but delivery that Rick had helped Carol stock was surprising- homemade moonshine and rattlesnake jerky. When he’d asked, she’d chuckled and explained that, “we take all kinds here.”

Which was a nice sentiment to live by, Rick thought. And if he’d had any further doubts about Daryl and his home-brewed alcohol, they’d all been erased a few evenings ago when Rick had stayed late at the farm and shared a couple glasses with Daryl, Carol, and Ezekiel.

Well, _one_ glass. That shit had been nothing if not strong.

“I could have paid, Negan,” Rick murmured lowly as he and Negan hovered behind the kids. “You didn’t need to-” Negan gave him a strange look as if to say _what the fuck are you on about?_ and Rick bit his lip, trying to explain. “I feel like you’re always takin’ care of us. Cookin’ meals, paying for dates, picking the kids up today…I don’t want to take advantage. If you think...” Rick hated talking money, especially in front of the kids. “If you think that I can’t afford little things like this, you don’t need to worry, alright? I appreciate it, really, but it’s not necessary.” He never liked to say why- _because after I got shot Lori and I upped our life insurance policies so the kids would be taken care of if anything happened to one of us-_ and he definitely didn’t want Carl hearing something like that. He was still so sensitive about his mother sometimes, and Rick could see him being uncomfortable about benefiting from her death in any kind of way.

Negan was still looking at him funny, and Rick was about to object, but Negan shook his head. “Rick, it’s not because I feel like you _need_ it,” he rolled his eyes dramatically. Did he pick that up from the high schoolers, Rick wondered? “It’s because I want to. Hell, it’s been a long time since I had someone to treat like this. I’ll let you get our next date, if that makes you feel better.” He kissed Rick on the cheek, and Rick softened instantly, melting like butter at the notion of someone wanting to spoil him and his kids _just because_.

“Well, thank you.” Rick turned toward the counter and gave Aaron a kindly smile as the man patiently doled out scoops into waffle cones and handed them to Judith and Carl. Aaron didn’t return it, he noticed- instead, he dodged Rick’s eyes and curtly asked him and Negan if they wanted anything as well.

“Two more waffle bowls, thanks,” Negan answered for them both. He hugged Rick close to his side, hip bumping hip. Rick thought he saw a flicker of something unpleasant on Aaron’s face, but it was quickly replaced with the same blank look he’d met Rick with before. “Sorry, babe, but I don’t like sharing when it comes to dessert. Or men,” Negan teased, and Rick huffed a laugh and elbowed him gently in the ribs.

Rick tried to catch Aaron’s eyes while Negan paid, but all he got was the cold shoulder, and even his _thank you_ and tip was met with a forced, eye-contactless smile that slipped away a moment later. Rick frowned to himself as he sat beside Negan out by the pasture again, brows furrowed as he dug out chunks of soft, cinnamony apple.

“Somethin’ eatin’ you, Rick?” Negan hummed beside him. There was a little bit of ice cream in his mustache, and Rick instinctively wiped it away with his thumb. He shook his head.

“It’s nothin’,” he said, more to convince himself than anything. “Thought Aaron was actin’ a little weird, that’s all. It’s been a long day, though, and he was dealin’ with the vet this morning. He’s probably just tired.”

“Probably,” Negan agreed. “Now about tonight- I know you’re probably exhausted, how d’you feel about a nice night in? Movie with the kids, takeout from that new place on the corner?” Negan crunched into his waffle bowl. “It’ll be nice. I’ll even let you pay if you really want to.” He winked at Rick, and they shared a laugh.

“Yeah,” Rick nodded. “That sounds nice.”

* * *

For the first couple days, Rick had been willing to chalk Aaron’s odd behavior up to exhaustion or a bad day, but when one or two bad days became a string of them that turned into dodged smiles and ignored texts, Rick began to get worried. He almost started to get paranoid that Aaron had requested not to work with him as well, but after five days of barely seeing each other, they ended up both tending the horses at the same time, and Rick decided to ask him outright. He’d seen Aaron being his usual friendly self with the other staff, and after almost a week it had become increasingly clear that his issue was with Rick alone.

Rick was brushing out the tangles in Buttercup’s mane as Aaron tended to the hooves of his favorite stallion, Buttons, when Rick couldn’t take the uncomfortable silence anymore.

“Did I do somethin’?”

Aaron tensed for a moment like he’d been dreading this conversation, and for the hundredth time, Rick mentally began running through all the things he could have done to piss Aaron off. Had he not mucked out the stalls properly last week? Had one of the kids been rude when they’d gotten ice cream?

“What do you mean?” Aaron asked stiffly, and Rick blew out an annoyed breath. He hated playing guessing games like this- he was never any good at them.

“You’ve been givin’ me the cold shoulder since last week. I was wonderin’ why. I’ve been tryin’ to work it out for myself, but…” he trailed off sheepishly. “Maybe I’m an asshole, but I’m not sure what I did. If you could just tell me, I’ll make it right-”

“You didn’t do anything,” Aaron said sharply. Rick raised one eyebrow as if to say _this is what I’m talking about_. “You just…” Aaron glanced down at the hay-covered floor and frowned. “We’re just different, I guess. You’re not the kind of guy I thought you were.”

The accusation stung like Aaron had slapped him, and Rick thought that he would have preferred the blow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Aaron almost looked…embarrassed? Rick couldn’t make sense of it all. “It’s not important, Rick. It’s just different personalities. Some people just clash, you know?”

“We didn’t clash a week ago,” Rick implored. “I thought we were friends.”

Aaron set the hoof pick down and stood, closing Buttons’ stall behind him. “I think it’s better if we weren’t.” He stepped gingerly around Rick to leave the barn. “I’ll go slop the pigs if you finish up here.”

The barn door fell closed behind him, leaving Rick confused and saddened in his wake.

* * *

“-said that it was better if we weren’t friends. I don’t know- it seems like I did somethin’, but I don’t know what.”

Negan suppressed the urge to grind this teeth together and forced a sympathetic look onto his face. Rick had been talking about Aaron- fucking _Aaron_ \- since he’d walked in the door. Granted, he’d only been at Negan’s house for about ten minutes, but still. It seemed excessive.

“Rick, I don’t mean to seem insensitive here, baby, but…why does it matter to you so much?” Negan asked as Rick took a long drought of his whiskey. He’d been drinking much more often under Negan’s watchful eye. “You’ve only known him, what, a month or so?”

Rick’s eyes cut up to his, and the hurt there had Negan eating his words. “I’ve only known you a month or so. If you decided to just stop talkin’ to me, I’d be hurt, too.”

The comparison struck Negan as more than a little unfair. “We’re _dating_ , Rick. I’d hope you’d be upset. I like to think that I’m a little closer to you than _Aaron_.” He tried his best to keep the venom out of his voice as he spat the other man’s name- it wouldn’t do him any good to look petty and jealous here.

Rick just gazed morosely into the amber depths of his whiskey. “I just…I thought I was makin’ friends, you know? Aaron was the first person at the farm who really took the time to know me. He was the one that trained me the first week or so and he was the only one that knew I was dating a man until Tara found out last week. I just don’t understand what he meant when he said that I’m not the person he thought I was.”

Rick seemed so troubled that Negan decided to throw him a bone- it was only fair, after all. And he hated to see him so down, not to mention caught up on another man when they could be having a good time together instead.

“Actually…” Negan began, shuffling his feet. Rick looked up at him curiously.

“What?”

“Fuck…Rick, I may know what happened with Aaron,” Negan confessed, looking guiltily at the man across from him. He didn’t like the way Rick’s frown deepened. “When I was there last week, I talked to Aaron a little while you were in the shower. Introduced myself, you know, told him that we’re together.”

Rick quirked an eyebrow at him- god, that was cute. “He already knew I was datin’ a man.”

Negan rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “Babe, you know how you, uh…you said you’re not the best at picking up signals?”

Rick frowned. “Yeah.”

“Well, I got the impression from Aaron that he thought you were…into him. Romantically.” Rick blinked slowly, and Negan could practically see the gears in his head whirring to try to process this information. “I’m not accusing you or anything! I don’t think it was anything you did, Rick, I think he just got a bit carried away. Guy's got a _serious_ fuckin’ crush on you, and when he saw me and realized that you really were off the market, he got a little…snippy with me.”

Rick fishmouthed for a moment. “But he’s…Aaron’s got a boyfriend.”

Negan shook his head. “Not according to him. Again, he didn’t say a whole lot about it, but he all but told me that he thought the two of you were goin’ somewhere. Said he and his quote-unquote _boyfriend_ were on the outs.” He squeezed Rick’s shoulder sympathetically- the poor bastard seemed to not know what to do with this new information. “I’m sorry, Rick- I should have told you sooner. I just hoped that it wouldn’t be an issue, you know? I don’t want to come between you and your friends, but it sounds like Aaron’s pretty fucked up over you right now. I chalked it up to a crush- I mean, who the hell wouldn’t be into you? You’re hot as fuck and sweet to boot.” Rick’s cheeks grew pink at the praise, and Negan soaked it up.

“Maybe I should explain it to him- that I never meant to lead him on…”

“No.” Negan shook his head. “You don’t owe him a goddamn thing, Rick. He’s being an ass to _you_ , honey. You told him you were with someone, and now he’s freezing you out. That’s a textbook dick move. Plus…it may be best for both of you if you just leave it be, you know? He may be acting like an dick right now, but he’s hurting. It’s not gonna make it any better for him to hear that you’re not into him- he already knows.”

Rick sighed into his glass. “I guess you’re right. I just feel bad, you know? I really didn’t mean to make him think- fuck.” One long swallow, and Rick’s glass was empty. Negan dipped his head to hide his grin and slid up behind the other man, one hand stroking the softness of his beard while the other slid underneath his thin Henley.

“It’s okay, baby. It’s not your fault. And hey- you’ve always got me. Let me hear all about your day, sweetheart. Don’t hold back, I want it all.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank u @ everyone who's been reading and commenting!! I've been having a lot of fun with this fic and I'm glad other people are enjoying it too :)


	6. Scope

Negan was trying to be understanding, he really was.

 _Slow_. He was beginning to loathe that word. Not only that, it was beginning to make him paranoid.

He didn’t like how often Rick cleared out his texts. There was never anything damning in them, but that didn’t _mean_ anything- he could have just erased them. And sure, Aaron still wasn't talking to him, but that didn't mean there weren't other people to worry about. He was spending so much time away from Negan, away from home- days spent at work and then a couple nights a week out with Michonne and a few of the other parents from Judith’s daycare, or having family nights at home that Negan wished so badly he would be invited to one day, or going to the shitty little country-themed bar a couple miles down the road from the farm. Negan knew way better bars than that, places that served something other than coleslaw and sweet tea or whatever the fuck it was that they got there. He could take Rick out to nice restaurants, dress up and drive him up toward D.C. and pay for a babysitter to watch the kids so they could spend a nice, romantic weekend together and maybe finally fucking _fuck_.

He’d suggested just that- without the fucking part- to Rick just last night and he’d shot him down, saying that he’d _feel bad about leaving the kids behind._ It threw Negan for a loop. Here he was, offering to wine and dine Rick and keep his kids occupied free of charge, and Rick didn’t want it. Instead, he’d said _the kids have a couple days off comin’ up for teacher work days, how about then, so we can all go?”_

 _Yeah_ , Negan thought bitterly, _all of us. The whole family jammed in the car with Carl rolling his eyes every time I try to flirt with you and sharing a room so that I can’t try to get in your pants._

He was getting frustrated, and the frustration was making him grow more and more fearful that Rick was seeing someone else. It was the only thing that made any sense- all the nights out, and then when he was home half the time he wanted to just be with his fucking kids. He still texted Negan, still spent some evenings with him, and Negan had even coerced him out on another impromptu date- and let Rick pay when he’d insisted.

It wasn’t enough. It wasn’t nearly enough, and Rick pulling away every time Negan started undoing his belt or sliding a hand up his shirt was growing old. He knew the feel of Rick’s skin beneath his fingertips, knew how it felt to touch that luscious chest, had seen the lithe body beneath his worn clothes. He’d had a taste, and it felt like a cruel thest of patience to deny himself like this.

He decided to compromise, just a little. It wasn’t the same as touching, as Rick getting him off with his hands or mouth or body, but hidden outside Rick’s house among the trees, donning black and cradling the camera he’d stowed away in his closet, he watched Rick through open windows.

He just wanted to be a part of what he saw through the glass- a family. He sat watching, transfixed, as Rick did mundane things like wash the dishes and pick up some of Judith’s toys off the living room floor.

The telescopic lens had been a good investment.

The only problem was that Rick’s bedroom windows were almost never open, and that’s what Negan wanted to see the most: Rick when he was vulnerable, alone, in his own private space away from his children and the responsibilities that came packaged with them. Did he ever spend hours lying awake, tossing and turning and unable to shut his brain off? Did he have nightmares about losing his kids like he’d lost Lori? Did he still cry over her?

At the very least, he wasn’t worried about someone else being in Rick’s bed now- he would have certainly noticed their comings and goings. And for some reason, he trusted Rick not to do that in his own home. If he were going to have some kind of drunken, illicit hookup, he’d do it some place his children didn’t sleep.

Negan snapped a few more photos as Rick disappeared up the stairs, and then found himself at a crossroads, the object in his jacket pocket like a stone weighing him down.

_Do I trust him or not?_

With the camera tucked safely away in its case, Negan debated. His fingers grazed the smooth metal and plastic, rubbing over it and then drawing the object out into his hands like it would show him the answer.

 _He could be sleeping with someone else,_ he thought as he rounded the side of the house and approached Rick’s car.

_Or he could just be having a drink or two. He probably DD’s for the people he goes out with and that’s why he’s home late. Deputy Grimes to the rescue, saving the streets from drunk drivers._

Negan bit his lip and fiddled with the tracker. _I wouldn’t have to use it all the time. It’d just fucking be there if I need it. Just to keep me from getting too paranoid. It’s not because I think he’s cheating on me. He’ll never know, and it’s not like it’s hurting him. Hell, what if he gets stuck somewhere? It’s for his own good._

The device was surprisingly easy to install. _Just like ridin’ a bike_ , he mused as he slid out from beneath the car and brushed the leaves from his jacket. _Maybe I’ll check in on him tomorrow. Bring him lunch or somethin’._

* * *

“ _Negan?_ ”

Rick blinked up at him from where he sat at a cozy booth with Tara, Michonne, Rosita, and a man with shaggy dark hair that Negan didn't recognize. Rick's curly head cocked curiously like he couldn’t fathom when Negan would be walking into his favorite bar on a Friday evening.

_Why the fuck are Michonne and Rosita here, and who the hell is this jackoff with the vest?_

Negan swallowed down the question and forced out the false cheeriness he could so easily summon. “ _Rick?_ What are you…what the hell are the odds?” He shook his head like he couldn’t believe that they’d managed to bump into each other like this. It seemed to be convincing enough for Tara, who had already resumed ogling her girlfriend’s chest. A woman of simple pleasures- Negan could understand that. Rick and the others still looked a bit skeptical, and that got under Negan’s skin a little. _What the hell do they think I did- followed him here? They don’t have a single goddamned reason to think that._

“We come here a lot,” Rosita said, her dark eyes searching Negan like his face held the key to all the world’s secrets. “It’s right by the farm.”

“And the owner’s a good friend of Michonne’s,” Rick said, already answering Negan’s most pressing question of _why the fuckity fucking fuck is Rick’s playdate pal here with him at this dumbass hick bar?_ “I didn’t know you liked this place.” There was no accusation in his voice that Negan could hear, which was a relief. A little of the tension melted out of his shoulders.

“Got a buddy that tends bar here sometimes- Dwight?” Rick’s group nodded knowingly, and Negan thanked his lucky stars for their town being just small enough to pull this little charade of without a hitch. All those nights spent shooting pool with Dwight and his wife and their dull-as-fuck friends had been worth it. “I usually don’t come out here to drink-” _because this place has one wobbly pool table, fishing gear hanging from the wall, and fucking Willie Nelson playing on the jukebox-_ “but he said the beer-battered fish fry was damn good and they have cheap pitchers, so I figured I’d give it a shot.” He offered up a sheepish grin and ran a hand through his hair. “I didn’t know this is where you came after work, Rick- shit, don’t let me interrupt.” He gave a polite wave and went to turn toward the bar, and like he’d expected Rick’s voice came calling him back.

“Negan- Negan! Hey, you don’t gotta leave.” Negan turned on his heel to see Rick scooting in a little bit and patting the wedge of booth beside him. “I just wasn’t expecting to see you is all.”

Negan broke into a grin and sidled up to Rick, thigh pressed to thigh. “Well, if I’m not botherin’ you all…” Fuck the rest of them- if Rick wanted him here, he was staying. And of _course_ Rick wanted him here. He could see it plain on the other man’s face, the utterly guileless twinkle in those gorgeous blue eyes that told him that all of his fears about these nights out had been unfounded. Rick _wanted_ him here. 

“So you know the owner?” Negan asked Michonne- she and the shaggy-haired man were the only one that he was still getting less-than-friendly vibes from, and he wanted to fix that up and wrap it in a bow, nice and neat, to show Rick how goddamned charming he was, how well he fit in with the rest of his friends.

Michonne nodded, sipping her drink slowly. Careful, wary, watchful. She reminded Negan of a vigilant cat keeping watch over its territory, claws sheathed but always ready to pounce. “Yeah, we went to college together. We were roommates, actually. We went our separate ways after graduation, but we both ended up back here.”

Tara rolled her eyes. “You’re so fucking tight-lipped, ‘Chonne. Lighten up, Negan’s one of us.” Rick looked amused, and Negan wondered what the hell Tara was taking about- or maybe she was just very drunk.

Michonne smirked coyly around her glass. “We were roommates with benefits.”

“Oh my god,” Tara groaned before turning to Negan. “They were girlfriends.”

“Emphasis on _were_ ,” Michonne interjected. “We’re just now getting back to being friends again. It was a bad breakup.”

“That,” Negan said, “is some _shit_. Appreciate the honestly, though. I feel like I know you better already. Tell you guys what- next round’s on me. What are we drinkin’?”

“Corona,” Rosita said immediately, shaking a finger in Rick’s face. “And don’t whine to me about how Miller or whatever-the-hell dad beer you drink is better. It’s not. I’ll get you a slice of lime and you’ll like it, Grimes.”

Rick chuckled and held up his hands in defeat. “Alright, alright. Corona it is.”

By the end of the night, even though Negan went home without Rick in his bed, he felt like it was progress. He'd spent time with Rick and his friends, shown him that he could easily have a place in every part of his life. Even the vest guy- Daryl- had seemed less hostile toward him when they parted ways. Rick was happy, Negan was happy, and nobody was the wiser about how Negan had found his way there. 

* * *

Watching Rick was addicting. It was too easy for Negan, on days where Rick wasn’t around to keep him occupied, to check the tracker and follow him around- to coffee shops where he sat with Michonne and chatted over a latte, to shopping centers where he took Carl and Judith to pick out actual winter coats because it was going to get cold enough to snow come November.

He took photos where he could, and the rest of the time, he was a fly on the wall. For someone who liked to be ostentatious and make his presence knows, he was surprisingly skilled at going undetected when he wanted to.

He’d managed to hold back on “accidentally” bumping into Rick too often- it was a small town, but not _that_ small. After the initial run-in at the country bar, he’d only done it once more: to interrupt one of Michonne and Rick’s coffee dates. He was pretty sure that he’d set himself back a little bit with Michonne by doing that, but how the hell could she know why he was really there? It wasn’t far from his house, and he liked a caramel cappuccino every now and again. If she didn’t want her completely platonic outings interrupted, she shouldn’t be stealing sips of Rick’s coffee. The people in that Starbucks probably thought that she and Rick were _together,_ and that was unacceptable.

* * *

“ _Negan_ …” Rick groaned, the sound of it pained and wanting all at once. Negan swore that every sound out of Rick’s pretty mouth made his dick twitch, and he was sure Rick knew it, too. He had to feel it pressed up against his hip as they made out on the couch, the tv screen still softly glowing though it had long settled into idle mode.

Rick gave a slow grind of his hips down into Negan’s own, and Negan felt his eyes about roll into the back of his skull. _Fuck_ , that was good, it was so damn good feeling Rick’s warm, solid body on top of his, the firm press of the other man’s cock against his stomach, his warm lips dancing across the sensitive flesh of Negan’s throat down to his collarbones. He hoped that Rick left him marked up so that he could look in the mirror in the morning and realize that _this is real, Rick is really letting me do this to him._

Maybe it was pathetic that he’d been reduced to getting overly worked up about dry-humping on the couch like a teenager, but it was more than he’d ever gotten out of Rick before.

Negan’s hands slid down Rick’s back lovingly, caressing his sides before dipping down and cupping the lush swell of his ass through his leans, squeezing him and rocking their hips together more firmly. Rick made a sweet, breathy noise in return and nipped at Negan’s lower lip, his face flushed pink with want.

“ _Fuck_ , Negan,” he growled, capturing his mouth again and kissing him deeply. Rick’s kisses never failed to steal Negan’s breath, and no matter how many times that luscious mouth had been pressed against his own, it never failed to surprise him just how soft, how warm, how _perfect_ Rick's lips felt against his own.

“Yeah?” Negan purred, giving him another squeeze, “you like that, Rick?” He slid one hand between their bodies, palmed Rick’s stiff cock through his jeans, and watched the man on top of him shudder and moan with delight. “Yeah, I _know_ you do, baby.”

“Mm,” Rick hummed throatily, “you wanna-”

Negan’s heart leapt in his chest for the briefest of seconds before the most hateful, night-ruining wail came from upstairs.

“Shit!” Rick was off of Negan and out of his arms in a moment, fatherly panic in his eyes. “Judith must have had another nightmare.”

Negan reached out for Rick’s wrist, about to suggest that, _if that’s all it is then just wait it out and come back down here and finish that goddamned sentence you fucking tease_ , but before he could speak, Rick was gone, thundering up the stairs like he thought Judith was in actual pain.

_Just my fucking luck._

Negan scrubbed a hand over his face, sighing and taking a moment to will down his erection before he climbed the stairs and played the part of the doting, forgiving boyfriend who didn’t at all mind that Judith’s cries had put a wrench into him possibly, _finally_ , sticking his dick into Rick.

When he reached Judith’s bedroom, she was still crying even though Rick had her cradled in his arms, her face buried in his shoulder while he rocked from side to side and shushed her soothingly.

“Sweet pea, Jude, it was just a dream, okay? Just a dream…” Rick was whispering comfort into his daughter’s sleep-mussed curls and all Negan could focus on was the sway of his hips and the way his jeans clung to his thick, strong thighs.

_Those thighs should be up around my fucking head right now._

“Dad?” Carl muttered sleepily from the hallway, and Negan turned to look at him. “Wha’s wrong?”

“Judith had a nightmare,” Negan explained, and Rick nodded.

“She’s alright, Carl. Sorry. Go back to bed.”

That was all it took for the kid to shut himself back in his room. He was probably already snoring again. Judith, at least, had quieted her cries down to sad little sniffles, but she was still clinging to Rick’s t-shirt like it was the last lifeboat off the Titanic. Her tiny bare feet sent a twinge of guilt through Negan- he really shouldn't have smashed that picture. He hadn't meant to hurt her. He was glad to see that she was all healed up now, at least. No permanent damage. Rick wiped away her tears with his thumb and kissed the tip of her nose. “You gonna go back to bed, Jude? Huh? I promise, there’s nothing under there.”

“There _was!_ ” Judith cried, her little voice wobbling like she was about to start bawling all over again. “I saw it!”

“The only thing under there’s your puzzles, sweet pea. I promise. You want me to check again?”

“Not _my_ bed,” Judith whimpered, her eyes shining bright with the threat of more tears. “ _Yours_.”

Negan’s heart stopped. _No. Oh, fuck no._ The memory hit him hard- Judith's wide, terrified eyes when she spotted him beneath her father's bed.  

Rick sighed, like they’d had this conversation before. “Jude, there’s nothing under my bed. I’m okay. Daddy’s okay, see?” He squeezed her tight before setting her back down on her own small mattress and sighed as he turned back to Negan- a bad sign.

“I’m sorry,” he began, and Negan knew his disappointment showed on his face. “She’s not gonna be able to sleep if I don’t stay up here with her. She’s been havin’ nightmares like this for a little while.” Even a small smile from Rick couldn’t lift Negan’s bleak mood. “Rain check?”

 _Rain check on sex? Rain check on you blue-balling me for the hundredth fuckin’ time?_ “Sure,” Negan nodded, swallowing down the bitterness like a spoonful of bitter medicine. “Rain check.”

As he left, he could hear the sound of Rick singing softly to Judith to lull her back to sleep.

_Hey Jude, don’t make it bad. Take a sad song and make it better…_

_Fuck it_ , Negan thought ruefully. As soon as he got home, he dug around in the back of his closet to find the tiny camera he’d bought a couple weeks back. He’d been so _good_ , he’d tried so hard not to spoil things for himself like this, but he needed a little something to tide him over. He couldn’t keep waiting for Rick like this- his dick was going to explode, and he was sick of jacking off to the same shitty cellphone picture every goddamn night.

* * *

The only good thing about Rick’s long hours at the farm was that it made it easy to sneak into his house. Unlike the first time, Negan was able to be more careful about it- perks of the car tracker- and got in and out in no time at all.

When Negan moved in, there had been an in-home office space right across the hallway from the master bedroom. Too small for a real bedroom, too big for a closet, it had sat mostly-unused in the years Negan had lived there. What the hell did a gym teacher need a home office for? There were no papers to grade, and he usually did any kind of record keeping in his tiny water closet of an office at the school. He wasn’t the type that liked to bring work home with him.

Up until Rick, it had been a room of junk: a couple boxes of dinnerware and old clothes that he’d never bothered unpacking after he moved in, a few scattered weights and kettlebells from that brief time a year or two ago that he’d tried to bulk up. He’d shoved a simple wooden desk in the corner, and it was there that the bulk of the photographs from his Lucille days were stashed, hidden away from sight.

Perhaps that was the real reason he’d never converted the room into a bachelor’s den or a workout room- it was the place he stored things he didn’t want to think about. He’d allowed himself the few photos of Lucille around the house, old mementos, but he didn’t like digging through their past, didn’t want it in his closet or under his bed where he might spot it. Out of sight, out of mind.

The last month, though, he’d been spending more and more time in his office-of-sorts. His laptop had taken up permanent residence on the desk beside the photo printer he’d invested in- last thing he needed was snoopy Walgreens employees wondering why he had so many through-the-windows shots of another man and his kids.

He only printed his favorites. Ink was too expensive, and his hard drive was overflowing with folder after folder of Rick photos.

He’d printed the stolen nude first of course- he had two copies, one in his bedside drawer and one tacked up on the office wall above the desk. Also pinned up were pictures he’d ripped from Rick’s Facebook account of his clumsily endearing attempts at selfies, a few striking ones that Negan had taken while following Rick around, and a handful more that Rick had allowed him to take. There were some of him sitting on Negan’s couch, munching popcorn and engrossed in _Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure_ ; one of him with a lapful of the barn cat, Shiva, who had staked her claim on Rick one afternoon when he’d been lounging amongst the hay bales; a few of him and Negan’s faces pressed together, Rick squinting at the camera as Negan took pictures of the two of them.

And now here he was, impatiently waiting on Rick to turn in for the night. He’d just gotten home an hour ago, and had spent some time texting Negan about his day. His hours were getting more erratic now that the farm was open to the public, and long nights were the new normal.

 _Just until Halloween_ , Rick had told him. _After that, it’s the slow season and it calms down a lot._

Negan could hardly wait. Halloween was only two weeks away, and with November came Thanksgiving, which Negan was angling to get invited to. Rick had mentioned driving down to Georgia to be with the Greenes, and Negan was determined to be a part of that celebration. Nothing said ‘part of the family’ like spending Thanksgiving together.

All of Negan’s wholesome thoughts were derailed when Rick appeared on his laptop screen. He closed the door to his bedroom behind him, and Negan’s heart immediately sped up- he’d been at this for three nights now, and Rick always left his bedroom door open- likely to better hear if Judith woke up. A closed door meant he was going to do something he didn’t want his kids privy to- or at least that’s what Negan hoped.

Negan had been there to see a lot during the last three nights- he watched Rick dress and undress, watched him read and sleep and wake up to Negan’s texts every morning. He’d watched as Rick frantically searched for his missing wedding band- he always took it off before going to work because he was worried about losing it, but somehow it had disappeared from atop his dresser three nights earlier.

As Rick’s clothes were shed over the bedroom floor and tossed into the laundry basket, Negan marveled at the man’s body. He was broader than Negan was, more muscular and less lanky. Strong shoulders, muscled arms and chest, thick thighs. A light smattering of hair across his chest and just beneath his navel- Negan remembered feeling the fuzz of it beneath his palm the night Rick had slept in his bed.

Rick looked exhausted as he collapsed bodily onto his bed, and Negan felt a small pang of guilt. Judith had kept Rick up two out of the last three nights- once, she had woken him up around two a.m. and he hadn’t returned to his room until four, and the next night he must have fallen asleep on the floor of Judith’s bedroom, because he hadn’t returned until the next morning to change clothes and ready himself for work. Now that Negan thought about it, Rick had seemed a bit sleep-deprived lately…

It was his fault, and he knew it. At the time, he’d just been thankful that he’d managed to slip out from beneath the bed and find a new place to hide before Rick had checked, but now he sorely regretted not timing his escape better so that the girl hadn’t seen him at all. It was making Rick miserable, and Negan hated being the cause of it.

He wanted to be the cause of what was happening on screen now, which was Rick, down to his briefs, palming himself slowly over his underwear. He was clearly in need of release- it had barely been a minute before he’d laid down, and there was already a sizable bulge in his briefs, making Negan’s mouth water. He could feel his own dick responding in kind.

 _God, he looks fucking beautiful touching himself_ , Negan thought as Rick slid one hand beneath the waistband to stroke himself properly. He pulled the hand out a moment later to lick a stripe up his palm before taking himself in hand again. _Wish I could hear him. God, I bet he makes the hottest fucking sounds when he’d getting off._ Negan recalled the sound of Rick’s soft, quiet little moans and whimpers and growls from their heavy makeout sessions. He always tried to muffle them- probably because he was used being mindful of his kids hearing him.

_God, I can’t wait to fuck him over here. Make him fucking scream. I bet he would._

Negan gave a low, pained groan of his own when Rick shifted on the bed to strip himself of his underwear, his hard cock now standing proudly. Rick’s feet slid against the sheets as his hips moved, thighs spreading wider. His balls, heavy and drawn up, bounced as he stroked himself and Negan wondered if he liked them played with. _He clearly likes his nipples played with_ \- Negan gave another ragged, lust-filled moan as Rick reached up with his free hand to roll and pinch one nipple between his fingers. _Little fucking minx. Wait ‘til I get my mouth on that hot fucking body of his_.

Negan was jerking himself off with vigor now, timing his strokes with Rick’s. The man’s face was as captivating as his body, and Negan drank in every tiny micro expression, every time he bit his lip or his mouth fell open on what Negan was positive was a moan, every time he squeezed his eyes shut like the pleasure was getting to be too much. He cataloged every little detail of the way Rick touched himself, committing them to memory so that when he did get his hands on Rick, he'd already know how to make him come undone. Free hand playing with a nipple or sliding down to cup his heavy sac, the way he would occasionally slow down to pass a thumb over the slit, spreading the wetness down the underside of his pretty cock. 

Negan came watching Rick’s hips rise off the bed and creamy white spill from his cock and over his belly and chest. _His face when he comes- fuck, I’d give anything to make him look like that_.

A thought struck Negan as he gazed at Rick’s spent body. He grabbed his phone and typed out a quick message to Rick before sitting back and watching.

_Hope you had a good fucking day, gorgeous. Been thinking about you. Sleep well._

He watched smugly as Rick’s phone lit up and he answered it, still spattered with come. He wanted to replay that warm smile that lit Rick’s face as he read the text over and over again on the long nights when Rick was gone.

He got a reply a few moments later, and waited until Rick was off-screen in his bathroom, probably cleaning himself up, to read it.

_I’ve been thinking about you, too. Any chance I can cash in on that rain check tomorrow night?_

Negan was sure that at that moment, he was the happiest man on earth.

_Abso-fucking-lutely, Rick. Get a babysitter for the kiddos, I’m gonna wine and dine the hell outta you, the way you deserve._


	7. Crossed

Rick spent the whole day looking forward to his night off with Negan. Carol had gladly let him leave early when he’d asked, thrilled to hear he was taking an evening to enjoy himself. She was always telling him that he worked too much, but Rick liked having something to do while the kids were away. Solitude and idleness were what had led him to drinking after Lori died. Carol was like the older sister he’d never had, always looking after him. She’d kept telling him the first few times that they’d all gone out to the bar together that he didn’t have to be the driver every night. “Let some of these kids stay sober, sunshine,” she’d said, offering him a mug of beer. “You look like you need a night off from dad duty.”

He’d accepted the offer once or twice, but he preferred not to get into the habit. It didn’t take much to get him drunk after all the months of sobriety, and he was too old to be drinking himself under the table, especially in front of his bosses.

Tonight, though- tonight was all about him and Negan. Just thinking about it made Rick feel giddy and wild, like he was sixteen years old again. He smiled to himself as he hefted a sack of chicken feed over his shoulder and headed for the coop. He’d already arranged for Carl and Judith to stay the night with Carol and Ezekiel so he and Negan could be truly alone together. Originally, he was just going to see if Carl wanted to spend the night with Ben and Sophia, which he did on occasion already, and find call the babysitter Michonne had recommended to him for Judith, but as soon as Carol had gotten a whiff that he was in need of someone to watch Judith, she’d volunteered.

_“It’s no trouble at all, Rick. Seriously- you Zeke know I love that little girl. She practically takes care of herself, I just gotta get a meal in her and she’s happy watching the horses and playing with Shiva. No, you’re not paying us. Seriously, Carl does half of Ben’s chores some days he’s over here just so he can get done faster, I’m not taking your money. Go have a good night, sunshine. You deserve it.”_

Which was all true- Carl and Ben did often collaborate on Ben’s chores so they could escape to the den sooner, and Judith loved the farm animals, enough so that Rick had actually been thinking about adopting a dog. He and Lori had gotten a little runt of a mutt from a local shelter right after they’d moved in together, and he still missed having a dog around the house. And maybe it would make Judith feel safer. Some of the things she was saying about the man under his bed were downright disturbing, and he didn’t know how to help her with the nightmares.

Aaron strode by as Rick scattered the chicken feed, still as aloof as ever. The scant few times he’d caught Rick’s eye lately, he’d looked right through him. It stung- Rick had never even guessed that Aaron had been interested in him. He’d tried more than once to catch him alone for a minute to try to apologize and clear the air, but Aaron seemed intent on dodging him. Even stranger was that he seemed to have blocked Rick’s number. It seemed like an extreme reaction considering Rick had only texted him once to ask if they could talk.

A strident _meow_ turned Rick’s attention to Shiva, who was winding her way around Rick’s ankles. He smiled and squatted down to pet her, only to have his arm climbed until the fiery orange tabby was perched on his shoulder like a parrot. Her rumbly purr right in his ear made him chuckle, and he stealthily pulled his phone out to snap a picture of himself and Shiva to show Judith.

Shiva rode happily on his shoulder as he tossed the empty feed bag and checked the barn locks one last time before heading toward the ranch. She gave a leaping dismount when she spotted Ezekiel on the porch with Sophia, immediately crawling into the other man’s lap.

“Shiva has taken a liking to you,” Ezekiel noted with a warm smile. He and Sophia were both holding little blocks of wood, small carving tools laid out between them.

“She has,” Rick agreed. “I always worry about her followin’ me to the chickens, but she never bothers them.”

Ezekiel scratched the cat beneath her golden chin, and Rick could hear the deep motorboat-rumble of her purr from where he stood. “She knows better than to mess with the animals. Aside from the mice, of course.” He tipped his head up at Rick, eyes warm like a crackling campfire. Rick always felt at home when he was around Carol and Ezekiel; there was something infinitely cozy and welcoming about them. “She’s a good judge of character as well. Seems we chose right when we hired you.”

That made Rick’s smile deepen. “I’m glad you did. I never thought I’d find another place that felt like home again, but Hershel wasn’t wrong when he said you and Carol were good folks.”

At that moment, Judith came bursting through the screen door, cookie in one hand and crumbs around her mouth. “Daddy! Ms. Carol made pumpkin cookies!” She climbed gladly into Rick’s arms, practically stuffing the still-warm treat into his mouth. Carol followed the girl out while Rick was mid-chew, smiling mischievously.

“Promise I’ll still get her to eat her greens,” she said, and Rick tried not to choke as he laughed and swallowed at the same time.

“Better you than me. She won’t eat her veggies at home even if I promise dessert after.” He swallowed the last of the cookie down, nodding approvingly. “These are great, by the way.”

Carol held out a small tupperware to him. “Take a few for the road. And for your _date_.” She grinned as Rick blushed and set Judith back on her feet, where she immediately began peering at the whistle that Ezekiel was carving. Rick took the sweets with a shy smile and a nod of his head, and bid the family goodbye before heading back to his car, his stomach fluttering.

_Get it together, Grimes. You’re too old to be actin’ like this is your first rodeo._

It wasn’t that he was anxious, exactly- just a touch nervous. He’d kept asking Negan to wait, and he’d been patient even though he was sure Negan could tell how worked up Rick got just from kissing. It was just that it had been so long since he’d been intimate with another person, so many years of feeling guilty when he caught himself admiring a pair of full lips or long legs or the twinkling eyes of a friendly stranger. He’d spent so much of his time recently working through those thoughts and reminding himself that it was okay to move on, that Lori wouldn’t have wanted him to be lonely for the rest of his life. He wasn’t replacing her, just allowing himself to let go of his grief.

If anything, he was worried about Negan’s expectations of him in bed. He’d never slept with a man, and he was out of practice having sex with anyone at all- he didn’t mind being taught, but he was worried that Negan might mind having a partner that he’d have to teach. He always seemed so eager, though, and he’d made such sweet, filthy promises to Rick, whispering them in his ear when they tangled together on the couch and occasionally texting them to him when they were feeling particularly flirty.

 _I’ll take such good care of you, Rick, make you feel so fucking good. Anything you want, honey, and it’s all yours, you’ve got me on my goddamned knees for you_. Rick shivered at the thought of that becoming literal- Negan kneeling on the floor between his bare thighs, parting them with those large, strong hands and swallowing him down… _fuck_ , it was making him hard just thinking about it. He’d spent the last few years getting off to nothing but the touch of his own hand, and even the nights that he and Negan had dry-humped on the couch like hormonal teenagers had left him aching for more. Lately, when he laid in bed at night and let his thoughts and hands wander, Negan had been the star of his fantasies. That sassy, smirking mouth had to be good for more than taunting and teasing, Rick was sure of it, and he often found himself recalling the hard, hot press of the other man’s cock against him as they kissed, picturing it inside him or in his hand or sliding past his lips.

 _Yeah_ , Rick thought, squirming excitedly in his seat as he drove, _tonight will be a good one._

* * *

Negan was trying his absolute best to keep of the pretense of not wanting to rip Rick’s clothes off right in the middle of the swanky Greek restaurant they were eating at. Against all odds, Rick looked good even with a mouthful of baklava. He and Negan had long since finished off their lamb skewers and their wineglasses stood empty, the barest traces of deep red lingering at the bottom. Negan _had_ promised to wine and dine Rick- and it wasn’t that he didn’t want to lavish the man with everything he could afford and more, but right now, all Negan could think of was how honey-sweet Rick’s mouth must taste and how good he would look with his snug jeans and soft button-up shed over Negan’s bedroom floor.

Negan was determined to _wreck_ him tonight. Rick had gone without for faf, far too long, and it was time for that to be remedied. The only thing Negan couldn’t decide was how he wanted to take him first.

“Check, gentlemen?” The waitress asked, and Negan shook his head, practically throwing his jacket on as he fished through his wallet and placed a couple crisp bills on the table. He’d already calculated meal, tax, and tip- or the approximate, anyway- so they could leave as soon as they finished dessert.

“Keep the change, darlin’,” Negan said with his usual charming smile, and the waitress beamed, thanking him profusely before being whisked away to another table. Rick chuckled lightly as Negan laced their fingers together and hurried them out to the car.

“You’d have given that girl the deed to your house if it meant gettin’ out of there a few minutes faster,” Rick teased as they pulled out of the lot. He slid a hand over Negan’s bouncing knee, the warm touch instantly calming him and soothing the restless growl of lust in his chest. He dropped a sly, flirty wink at Rick just to see him blush in the glowing lights of the city.

“What can I say, Rick? I can’t wait to get you back to my place.”

Rick gave his knee a squeeze before pulling away and Negan had to bite his tongue to keep from begging him to put it back. “Sure are confident that you’re gettin’ some tonight,” Rick mused aloud, and even though his tone was light and airy as the layers of pastry they’d eaten for dessert, Negan’s stomach clenched.

“If you’re gonna back out now, just tell me,” he snapped, a touch more harshly than he’d meant, and even without looking at Rick he could see the wan withdraw a little. _Fuck, shit, fuck, you goddamned idiot, you’re so fucking close-_

“I- I wasn’t…” Rick’s hesitant tone pierced right through Negan’s heart, making him sag with the bitterness of guilt.

“Shit, Rick, I- fuck, baby, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for it to come out like that. I know you were just pullin’ my leg. I just…” he conjured up something to smooth things over and soothe Rick’s bruised feelings. “I just started gettin’ worried, you know?” Negan scrubbed a hand over his stubbly jaw, wiping away the irritation and replacing it with a vulnerable, faraway frown that he knew would help smooth things over. “I know it sounds fuckin’…I don’t know. Stupid. Paranoid. Hell, it was just me gettin’ into my own head, I know that. But lately I’ve been worried that you’ve been putting off sex because you don’t want it- that I’m just…just a phase or something for you. Someone to help you move on until you find the real thing again.” He allowed a pained waver seep into his voice, and the effect was immediate- Rick relaxed and reached over to rest a hand on his knee again. _Gotcha_.

“Negan,” Rick said gently, all guileless sincerity. _God_ , Negan adored that about him. “That’s not what this is. I swear to you, it’s not. It’s just been a real long time for me, that’s all. I’m a little nervous. It’s not because I don’t want to.”

Negan smiled, his concern that Rick would opt out at the last second fading away along with the bright D.C. lights in the rearview mirror. “Good. That’s fucking good to hear, Rick. Because I really- I _really_ fuckin’ care about you.” He felt the obligation- no, the _desire_ \- to put himself on the line with Rick after his little guilt trip. Hell, he was about to take Rick to his bed. Rick was about to let Negan take him to bed, the first person he’d been with since his high school sweetheart and mother of his fucking _children_ had passed away. That had to mean something- it had to mean a lot.

They rolled to a stop at a red light, the raindrops scattering the crimson glow and diffusing it into tiny droplets across the windshield. That same ruby-red sparkled in Rick’s eyes as Negan glanced over at him, and it was just then that it hit him, just a moment before the words left Rick’s lips- he’d gotten this man to fall in love with him.

“I care about you too, Negan,” Rick murmured, and suddenly the air around them felt sacred, like Rick’s words had the power to baptize their very breath. “I love you.”

Sweeter words had never been spoken, of that Negan was convinced. Nothing in all of human history had ever or would ever come close to hearing Rick Grimes confess his love on that late October night.

The light turned green, but Negan didn’t dare move. The moment felt spellbound and sacred. “I fucking love you, Rick,” he breathed. “I don’t know how I got so goddamned lucky, I never thought I’d get a second chance like this, but I love you, I fucking _love_ you-”

The car behind them laid on their horn and took an irritated swerve around them, but even as Negan stepped on the gas and flipped off the impatient owner of one sad little minivan, he still felt like he was gliding on air.

* * *

Negan was sure he broke the speed limit several times over while driving home, and he got the feeling that Rick didn’t completely approve- _you can take the man out of the sheriff uniform_ , he mused, and his cock twitched at the very thought of Rick in his old sheriff uniform…and then _out_ of his uniform, wearing nothing but a cocky _I-am-the-law_ smirk and his hat while he rode Negan like a filthy cowboy.

Their time between pulling into the driveway and getting in Negan’s front door must have been mere seconds. Negan didn’t recall it at all, didn’t seem to recall anything that wasn’t Rick’s strong hands on his waist and his soft, supple mouth pressed against Negan’s own as he kicked the front door closed.

Everything in Negan was clamoring to undo Rick’s belt and shove his jeans down just enough to get the job done, maybe bend him over the back of the couch or the kitchen counter while Negan pounded into him until he screamed.

 _Easy_ , the reminded himself as Rick nipped at the wildly pounding pulse in his throat. _He’s nervous. You’ve got all night. Worship that gorgeous body like he deserves._

Their kisses grew more languid until they both parted for air, panting heavily and cheeks pinked. Rick had that look that he got sometimes when things had gotten hot and heavy before: half-shy and half-aroused. Negan wanted to make that shyness evaporate until all Rick could think about was how much he wanted him. Hans on Rick's hips, he backed him toward the kitchen until Rick's backside was flush with the cabinets. He reached for the bottle he'd set there, still mouthing at Rick's neck.

“Have some wine, darlin’,” Negan crooned, already uncorking the bottle and pouring him a tall glass. “Relax a little. I don’t want you runnin’ off on me.” He smirked as Rick took a hearty swig before setting it down, licking his lips.

“Not goin’ anywhere,” he rasped, pulling Negan closer by the lapels of his jacket. “Been thinkin’ about this for weeks. Longer.” He crushed his lips against Negan’s and let the taller man lick into his mouth to taste the heady traces of wine lingering there.

“Yeah?” Negan rumbled out, smirking against Rick’s sweet lips. “You think about this a lot?” One hand slid down Rick’s body, chest to hip to groin, before cupping the bulge beginning to strain against the zipper of his jeans. Rick shuddered and gasped, hips rolling into Negan’s palm.

“Yeah,” Rick breathed into his ear, voice hitching when Negan gave him a gentle squeeze. “Think about a lot more than this, too.”

“Mm, _honey_.” Negan slid one knee between Rick’s strong thighs, letting him grind against him. “You touch yourself when you think about me, baby? You lay in your bed alone at night and wish I was there to take care of you?” He was desperate for that yes, that confirmation that all the nights he’d watched Rick writhe and come undone under his own hand that he’d been picturing Negan’s there in its place.

Rick ducked his head, blush spilling down his throat and below the open buttons of his shirt. Negan took mercy on him, pressing a kiss to his curls and whispering low: “because you’re all I think about, Rick. Can’t tell you how many times I’ve come thinking about your gorgeous face.”

Rick’s head jerked up, his expression embarrassed and pleased all at once. He smiled and took another drink of wine, his eyes clouded with lust and the daze of the alcohol.

“C’mon, honey,” Negan purred in his ear, smooth and seductive. “Let me take you to bed.”

Rick let him. Let him interlock their fingers and lead him up the stairs and into his bedroom, let him lay him back on the bed and crawl over him like a prowling wildcat going in for the kill.

Negan was sure he’d never felt this goddamned _good_ before.

Rick was hard- hard enough that Negan could feel it, hard enough that he stripped Negan of his jacket and shirt, hard enough that when Negan divested him of his button-up and belt, all he could do was lift his hips for more. His gaze was hazy and Negan couldn’t take it- he couldn’t- and pressed down into him, hips rolling and hands wandering.

“Fuck, baby, so fucking sexy,” he ground out as he ran reverent hands over Rick’s bare chest. The videos and shitty cellphone photo could never do him justice. The reality of him was soft, smooth skin, still lightly tanned from the summer but rapidly fading into that winter-pale color that Negan could easily picture covered in red-purple marks from his mouth. His nipples were pink and pebbled from the chill of the room, only growing harder when Negan took them into his mouth, one at a time, his fingers playing with the other.

“Oh, _fuck_ , Negan-” Rick’s back arched up into the touch, and Negan smirked against his chest, drawing back to kiss at the firm, full flesh of his pecs. When he drew back, just for a moment to see Rick’s face again, he was lost. The man didn’t even have his pants off yet and he still looked utterly debauched, strong arms raised above his head to give Negan access to his chest, nipples standing out bright and pink against the rest of him, the scarlet coloring his cheeks traveling down nearly to his navel.

Negan buried his face between Rick’s thighs, mouthing over the stiff bulge there. The moan that Rick let out was nothing short of angelic.

Negan’s own cock was aching between his legs, and within seconds he was bare, not wanting anything between himself and Rick any longer. Fuck going slow- he’d been going slow for _months_. No, right now, Negan needed to be inside Rick as keenly as he needed oxygen in his lungs. The slow and tender lovemaking would just have to wait. Hell, after tonight, they’d have all the time in the world, he was sure of it. And he certainly planned on having Rick’s body more than once before the morning- surely after another round or two he’d be able to take his time.

Rick made a small, startled noise when he was flipped unceremoniously onto his stomach. Negan was hovering over him and mouthing over his bare shoulders as he quickly divested Rick of his jeans. He gave the man’s boxers a rough tug, exposing his backside to Negan’s hungry gaze.

“Oh, fuck,” Negan groaned, hands greedily groping the supple mounds. There were two shallow dimples right at the base of Rick’s spine, positively begging for him to grab Rick’s waist and press his thumbs into them while he fucked Rick into a goddamned coma. Negan squeezed him roughly before parting him, and he very nearly came early at the sight of Rick’s tight, pink opening bared to his gaze. He watched it clench tighter, felt Rick squirm underneath him.

“N-Negan-”

Negan’s fingers rubbed over the soft pucker gently, teasing Rick, trying to get him to soften just a little. He could feel the tension running from his shoulders all the way down his calves, every muscle pulled tight. _You’d think the wine would have made this easier_ , Negan frowned.

Rick jerked a little at the foreign touches, and that only made Negan’s frown deepen. He bore down a little more, pressing his hips down into Rick’s and rubbing his steely, dripping cock against that lovely ass. “ _Relax_ , Rick. I’m gonna send you to heaven, that’s a guaran-fucking-tee.”

“Negan- Negan maybe we could just…” He could practically hear Rick swallow. “Just slow down a little? Just a little, baby, I-”

Negan made a terse, irritated noise in his throat and gave a small thrust against Rick’s backside, trying to impress upon him that he _needed to be inside right fucking now_. “Rick, Rick, _Rick_ , c’mon, we’ve been doin’ that fucking slow shit for _months_.” He grabbed Rick’s wrists and pinned them to the bed beside the pillows, his hips still rolling down into Rick to try to find some way to relieve the dull ache between his hips. Rick squirmed a little more, and Negan held him a little tighter. _Little fucker thinks he can fucking shut this shit down me when I’m one good thrust away from being balls-deep in him?_ “Just let me make you feel good, Rick. I swear, I’ll make you feel so fucking good, make you come so hard that you’ll be _begging_ for my cock if you just relax.” He let go of one wrist to reach for the lube in his bedside drawer, and within seconds Rick had wrenched out of his grasp and flipped over on his back again, drawing his knees up.  

“You want it like this?” Negan teased with a grin, dragging him down until he was flush against Rick again, nestled warmly between those gorgeous thighs. “I do, too. Wanna see your face when you come around my cock.” He ground against Rick, grabbing his face and pulling him close, wanting to taste those perfect lips again.

“Negan-”

Negan nipped harshly at Rick’s full lower lip, groaning when he tasted the tang of blood. He was beginning to feel lightheaded and nearly drunk on the rush of being so tangibly close to what he’d been craving for all those months.

“ _Negan_ -”

Rick squirmed again, and Negan held his hips down against the mattress, raked his nails down the thighs bracketing his waist.

“Wait, Negan, please, just- just give me a second-”

 _You’ve had all the fucking seconds in the world_ , Negan wanted to snap. Instead, he bore down on Rick, his weight settling atop the smaller man. His fingers were slick and poised at Rick’s entrance and Rick’s lips tasted salty and sweet all at once and his body was hard and hot beneath him, and he felt nearly out of his mind with the strength of his desire.

“Negan, stop, _stop_ -!” Rick jerked away, bucking Negan off of him for a moment only to be grabbed and shoved back into place beneath him.

“Come the fuck _on_ , Rick!” Didn’t Rick see how much Negan needed this? How much _he_ needed it? This was supposed to be for both of them.

“Get the fuck off of me!” Rick struck out with an elbow, catching Negan in the ribs as he was held down, and the surprise of it was enough for Negan to release him. His eyes were wide as Rick scrambled out of bed and away from him, breathing hard.

His rage, unbridled and scorned, lasted only a moment before the fear on Rick’s face doused the flames of it, but it was a moment he couldn’t take back. Rick had seen it, that all-consuming burn that had the power to scorch them both, and in that brief moment, he saw Negan, truly _saw_ him, for the first time.

And he didn’t like what he’d seen.

Negan’s impatience caught up to him when Rick grabbed for his discarded clothes on Negan’s bedroom floor, trying to cover himself up as quickly as possible.

“Rick- wait, _Rick!_ ” Negan scrambled out of bed after him as Rick pulled on his jeans and managed to catch his wrist, which only made Rick jerk roughly away like he’d been burned.

“Don’t- I can’t do this, Negan, I- not-” He tried to turn his face away, tried to hide his expression, but Negan caught it anyway- Rick looked scared and vulnerable, his fathomless eyes red-rimmed and his bare chest stuttering with panicked breaths.

That look only made him _harder_.

For the briefest moment, Negan felt something dark and twisted warring inside of him against his better judgment- something that made him want to snatch Rick by the wrist again and force him down by the back of the neck until he was bent over the side of the bed and fucking _show_ him that he would regret leaving.

But Rick stumbled out of his reach and was already tucking himself back into his jeans, his face going steely and closed-off in a way that terrified Negan much more than his fear had.

“Rick, please, please, I…I just got carried away! I got caught up in the moment, you’re so fucking sexy, so gorgeous, and I…I couldn’t help myself.” Rick was looking at him with disgust, and it twisted like a knife in Negan’s gut.

“You couldn’t _help yourself?_ ” Rick snarled, his mouth twisting around the words. “I told you to wait. I told you to _stop_. I just wanted a few goddamned seconds and you- what? You couldn't wait that long?” He snatched his shirt off the floor and headed for the stairs. “I need to go.”

Panic gripped Negan’s heart along with the most crippling sense of deja-vu. _No, no, fuck no, not again._ “Rick- Rick! Come back here, baby, please!” He followed him down the stairs, pleading and then darting past him when that didn’t slow him down, coming to a stop in front of the door to block Rick’s escape route.

“Move, Negan.” Rick’s voice was so cold. He’d never spoken to Negan like that before, not ever, and it sent an icy chill down Negan’s spine.

“Rick, _please_ ,” he begged, dropping to his knees. He wasn’t above begging, not when it came to this. Not when it came to _Rick_. “Please, baby, I fucked up. I _really_ fucked up, I know that, please don’t leave. We don’t have to have sex- we don’t, I’ll wait as long as you want, _please_ just don’t fucking leave.”

“ _We don’t have to have sex_ ,” Rick repeated drily, brows knitted. “Well, thanks for that. I’m glad you’re lettin’ me off the hook. That's awful generous of you.” He stepped around Negan and reached for the knob, snatching his hand away when Negan reached for him. “Let me leave, Negan. I’m not fucking around right now.” His voice didn't waver, and neither did the hard, distant expression on his face. 

“Rick, _please_ -” the front door was pulled open. “I fucking love you, I love you so much-” he grasped at the shirt balled up in Rick’s fist as he stepped outside into the chill of the night. A sob wrenched out of his chest, fat tears rolling down his cheeks as Rick pulled away from him, unwilling to be touched. “Don’t go, _please_ , please don’t fucking leave me here, I’m so sorry, I’m sorry, Rick, I’ll never do it again, I’ll fucking-”

The door slammed closed in Negan’s face, nearly smacking into his nose. The sound of it jarred him, stunning him silent for a second while everything sank in.

_Rick left._

_Rick left because of me._

_Rick’s gone. Rick’s fucking gone._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this fic is just one endless lesson in blue-balling everyone. should I be dodging tomatoes? lmao i'm sorry.


	8. Withdraw

Rick slid to the floor after triple-checking the front door bolt, his whole body shaking. He’d run across the yard and into his house, not trusting Negan not to follow him. As he’d learned tonight, the man was persistent to a fault.

Fear wasn’t something that Rick felt often, not for his own well-being. He was accustomed to worrying about Carl and Judith, and when Lori had been alive he’d worried about her, too- not as much as they both worried about the kids kids, but that loving concern was always there. But tonight Rick had felt nothing but fear for himself. He closed his eyes, breathing out deep, trembling breaths that matched the tremors in his hands and the anxious race of his pulse. The ghost of Negan’s grip on him lingered on his skin, clutching at his wrists and hips and bearing down on him like a steady, crushing weight.

He didn’t understand- it didn’t connect. Negan had always been so kind, so gentle with him, patient and tender and promising that when Rick did feel comfortable sleeping with him, that he’d be just as patient with him then. _I’ll be so good to you, baby. Show you how good it can be. I’ll go real slow, make sure you know just how fucking beautiful you are…_

He’d held onto those words, replayed them in his head late at night with a hand around his cock. He’d let them spark a shy, sweet delight in him that he hadn’t felt since Lori.

The reality hadn’t been gentle or patient, it hadn’t been loving- and only a few hours ago they’d been exchanging those three little words on the ride home, their eyes full of adoration. The man he'd just left didn't seem like the same person. Negan had been _rough_ with him, pawing at him and yanking his clothes off, not seeming to care that Rick wasn’t fully hard or that the wine was making him feel woozy or that he’d tried to nudge him away, tried to kiss him and show him how he liked to be treated.

Rick wasn’t opposed to a good, rough fuck- in fact, he _loved_ it, and sometimes quick and dirty was the only option. But it had been _years_ for him, and he hadn’t even fingered himself in what felt like forever- he was usually too tried for anything more involved than something quick and utilitarian, just his hand to get the job done. Most of his free evenings were spent with Negan or his kids, and he ended up crawling into bed too late to take care of himself. He hadn’t bothered to buy lube in ages and all of his and Lori’s toys were still packed up in a box he’d shoved onto the top shelf of his closet where Judith couldn’t find them. Negan _knew_ it had been a long time for him, that he was nervous, that he wanted to go slow, that he liked foreplay. They’d talked about it up and down, much to Rick’s occasional blushing chagrin.

And what was more, he’d asked Negan to slow down. Told him to stop. And in response, Negan had held him down and tried to quiet him, had rubbed against him like Rick was nothing more than a toy to be used by him. The look in his eyes when he’d grabbed Rick by the jaw, his fingertips digging into his cheeks to better jerk him around…Rick hadn’t recognized him. Those warm, autumnal hazel eyes that he’d been mooning over for months had turned cold and hard, something possessive in their depths that had made icy dread creep through Rick’s chest.

A sudden buzz in Rick’s back pocket made him jerk violently. _Just my phone_. He breathed out, trying to calm his racing heart, but then he saw the caller id: _Negan_.

He tapped the red button and set his phone on the floor beside him, but it just rang again a moment later- and then again when Rick rejected it, and again when he ignored it altogether. He sat as if in a trance, watching the glowing screen light the dark entryway, vibrating over and over again and inching across the floor.

_(1) New Voicemail._

_(2) New Voicemails._

_(3) New Voicemails-_

Rick snatched his phone up and stood, shoving it back into his pocket and trying to ignore the constant vibration as he climbed the stairs to his bedroom. He tossed his shirt to the floor, missing the basket, fished the phone out of his pocket and let it continue ringing on his unmade bed, where the noise was muffled.

He’d never spent the night here alone, he realized- even the nights that Carl had slept over at his friends’ houses, Judith had been right there in the next room. Childishly, he wished they were here now. The house felt overlarge and eerie without their comforting presence, even if it was late enough that they’d be asleep by now. Rick shucked his boots and jeans, which were still unzipped and loose around his hips, and eyed the wide, dark gap between his bed and the floor beneath it.

_He’s not under my bed, daddy._

Goosebumps broke out over Rick’s bare torso, the hairs on his arms standing on end as he recalled his daughter’s words.

_There’s someone outside, daddy._

That had been her new thing, and Rick would be a liar if he said it hadn’t given him chills the first time she’d said it. The three of them had been sitting down to dinner, Judith facing the window leading out to the backyard. Carl had been telling a story about the fight that had broken out during his lunch period, and suddenly Judith had gone still and quiet, her eyes wide and fearful.

_Who’s in the woods, daddy?_

He’d assumed she’d seen a tree waving in the wind or maybe even a deer- Rick had seen more than one crossing the road or lingering in front yards, and Carol had assured him that it was normal. They lived in a rural, heavily wooded area after all.

But Rick had turned and stood and seen the shadow moving along the trees, and it had been no deer. It was too dark to make out anything other than a black-clad two-legged form standing among the treeline behind the house, but the moment Rick had turned and squinted out the window, he’d seen it move, seen something small and reflective glint in the porchlight.

He’d grabbed a flashlight and the revolver he kept locked away in his bedroom, but the time he went outside to check, whoever or whatever had been there was long gone.

That had been two weeks ago, and Rick had slept with one eye open ever since, obsessively checking the locks on the doors and windows every time they left the house or turned in for the evening.

His phone was still vibrating, the buzz grating down the last of Rick’s raw, frayed nerves. He angrily snatched it up, sent a quick text to Carol and Carl saying that he was turning his phone off for the night and that if they needed to reach him quickly they should call his neighbor across the road, Siddiq, before shutting the damned thing off and slamming it onto his bedside table.

Silence invaded the room and somehow it didn’t make Rick feel any better.

He checked under the bed before locking his bedroom door and double-checking the windows and finally crawling beneath the covers, feeling more vulnerable and afraid than he had in a good, long time.

* * *

“Oh, _fuck_ …”

There were too many things that Negan was suddenly aware of as he woke up- the feeling of smooth tile pressing into his face, the pounding in his head like his skull had been used as a piñata, the sour stench of vomit cloying at his nostrils and making his already-nauseated stomach flip over on itself.

Luckily, he seemed to already be in the bathroom, so all he had to do was lean over the toilet- which was already spattered with burgundy from the night before- and heave until his insides felt like they were in the bowl alongside the puddles of wine and the last of his dinner.

He didn’t bother looking in the mirror, it was clear that he was a mess. He sat in the tub, letting the shower rinse him clean because he knew as soon as he got to his feet he was going to want to die even more than he already did.

It pissed him off that he’d downed all of that wine and still remembered what had led up to his binge-drinking. If he was going to feel this shitty, he should at least get a few hours of memory loss out of it.

Instead, he wanted to crawl back downstairs and start the morning with a bottle of rum to numb the guilt-laden, painful hole that he felt had been ripped open in his chest. _I hurt Rick. I scared him, I fucking- he had to fight me off, he hates me now, he fucking hates me, he’ll never fucking talk to me again._

Most of the mess was confined to the bathroom, and Negan didn’t have the willpower or energy to deal with cleaning it up at the moment. He opted to hunt for his phone, which he found heavily cracked and laying beneath a shallow dent in the wall in his office. When he pressed the home button, he discovered that while it still worked, it was out of power.

Waiting for it to charge enough to see what he’d sent Rick last night felt like he was a prisoner awaiting sentencing. If he’d thrown his phone like that, he must have been pissed at some point, and he truly, truly hoped that he hadn’t spoken to Rick in rage. That would only serve to scare him off even more.

His phone lit up after a couple long minutes, and he was immediately disheartened to see that he had zero missed calls or new messages.

_He’s still freaked out._

His outgoing call log showed close to thirty unanswered calls to Rick’s cell between twelve and four am.

The texts were even worse. He could see himself getting more and more incoherent as he read them- the apologies and the excuses and the pleading for Rick to understand and forgive him.

_I'm so fuckin sorry_

_i'm so sorry rick please I didn’t mean to_

_I wasn’t thinking please come back_

_we can talk about this_

_answer my damn calls please baby_

_i'm sorry i'm a piece of shit I love you I love you-_

And then, to his horror:

_You’re a fucking tease_

_Acting like you don't want my dick up your tight little ass_

_fucking know you want me I KNOW you would have liked it_

_lying to me and saying you loved me when all you care about is jerking me around like the fucking whore you are_

_I know you’re fucking that slut you went to coffee with and all the hillbilly fuckin pricks you work with_

_Keep acting so fucking innocent like I don’t see what you’re doing-_

The crack in his screen worsened when the phone hit the floor again so Negan could scramble for the toilet and dry-heave until shamed tears rolled down his cheeks and into his mouth. The things he’d said to Rick- they were there, signed sealed and delivered and unable to be taken back. He could only imagine what kind of shit he’d said in the voicemails he left.

_He’s never going to fucking speak to me again._

The sight of his phone glowing on the floor sparked a memory in him- watching Rick on the camera feed last night, ignoring call after call and eventually shutting his phone off. With the tiniest sliver of hope springing to life in him, Negan scrambled down the hall to his office and pulled up the feed. _Maybe he’s still asleep, maybe I can sneak in and delete everything before he-_

But when Rick’s room appeared on the laptop screen, Rick wasn’t in his bed, and his phone wasn’t on the bedside table where he’d set it last night. It was nearly two in the afternoon, so Negan knew that it was foolish to hope that Rick was still asleep. He slumped to the floor, aching head falling into his hands. _I fucked it all up. One night, and I fucked everything up._

* * *

“ _So_. How was your night?” Carol inquired less-than casually as soon as she opened the door. A sly smile was playing on her lips and her piercing ice-blue stare took in Rick’s sleepless, disheveled appearance and assumed the best. “Looks like you barely slept. I got your message the morning- phone off and everything, huh?” Her I-know-what-you-did smirk faded fast when she caught onto Rick’s stiffness and discomfort and his own gaze fell to the floor. “Rick. Something wrong?”

He didn’t want to talk about it. Not to anyone, really, and definitely not to his boss, as good a friend as she was. Carol, for all her sweetness and sweaters, had an intense streak that Rick had a feeling he’d only seen the beginning of. She very much struck him as someone would give Negan a piece of her mind- and possibly a kick in the balls- if she knew what had gone down the night before.

So he forced a small smile and shook his head. “I’m fine, Carol. Date didn’t go as planned, but that’s alright.”

Rick had woken up to ten nearly incoherent voicemails and close to a hundred texts that ranged from pleading to disquietly threatening. Some of the things Negan had said…he was clearly drunk off his ass by that point, but still. Being called every name in the book, being told that he _should have kept his mouth shut so Negan could just give it to him and prove how much he’d like getting dicked down_ was far, far past unsettling.

One of the best things about Carol was that she didn’t push too much- she knew when people needed their space, likely because she was very much reserved herself. She nodded, gave Rick’s arm a comforting squeeze, and fetched the kids. Carl had to be roused from his deep slumber on the rollout couch- _he and Ben and Sophia fell asleep right as I was getting up_ , Carol explained- and Judith was happily munching peanut butter and apples in the living room watching Scooby Doo reruns. She hugged Carol goodbye and Carl and Rick thanked her before piling into the car. Carl fell asleep almost immediately, and Rick was relieved to dodge his jokes and teasing about Rick’s date. Judith was half-singing-half-humming some song about an ostrich the whole ride home, and Rick tried to focus on the sound of her voice instead of the cloud of anxiety looming over him.

It was half past eleven in the morning, but seeing as Carl probably got about two hours of sleep, Rick didn’t argue when he mumbled sleepily that he was going to go back to bed when they got home. Carol had already taken care of Judith’s breakfast, so she was content to resume her Scooby marathon on their own couch.

Rick’s phone was a burning rectangle in his back jeans pocket, and it was only a matter of time before he had to pull it out and masochistically read Negan’s texts again.

_I love you, I’m sorry-_

_Made a mistake-_

_You’re a fucking tease-_

_You would have liked it-_

_Fucking half the goddamned town, like I wouldn’t find out-_

_Just text me back-_

_Please just listen, baby._

Rick read them over and over again. _Why the hell does he think I’m sleeping with Michonne? And the people at work? He can’t really think I’m doing all that behind his back. It had to have been the alcohol talking._

Rick made a noise of frustration and closed out the texts, setting his phone face down on the countertop. _You hear yourself, Grimes? ‘It was the alcohol talking’…how many domestic violence cases did you work where some poor woman said that same shit to you and it made you want to cry?_

Nothing that Negan had said or done last night was in line with the person Rick knew him to be. _But how well do you really know him? You’ve been his neighbor for a couple months, you can’t really know someone that fast. He could have been hiding it, trying to keep it under wraps…_

Rick desperately wanted last night to have been a grossly out of character mistake on Negan’s part. The man was more than just a casual acquaintance- Rick had let him into his home and his life. Carl played baseball with him in the backyard on the weekends, Judith adored him and would always greet him with a hug and a giddy cry of “ _Negan_!” as she latched herself around his neck. And Rick- he _loved_ him. What he’d told Negan last night was enormous, something he thought he’d never be able to do again. He was, against all odds, in love with the wild-eyed man next door, and the thought of losing him now after finally letting himself feel something for another person again…it made Rick ache.

For the next several hours, Rick agonized and debated with himself. The rational ex-sheriff side of him was screaming to cut this thing off at the head here and now. Red flags were red flags, no matter how he felt about Negan, and if he was smart, he’d cut the man out of his life completely. _If this was someone else, anyone else, you’d be telling them to cut and run right now. If it was Michonne or Tara or Aaron in your shoes, you’d be ready to kick down that sorry sonafabitch’s door. You know something’s wrong. You know that the person you’re with should never make you feel like that._

Around three, after serving up turkey sandwiches for lunch and watching The Fox and the Hound with Judith, Rick poked his head into Carl’s room. He’d opted out of the Disney movie- these days he was more into superheroes and horror flicks- and was half-watching Friends while tapping away on his phone.

“I’m goin’ over to Negan’s for a minute. I won’t be long. Jude’s doin’ a puzzle downstairs, so I’m gonna leave your door open.”

Carl’s too-knowing eyes flicked up from his phone, narrowed curiously. “You’re really just gonna be a minute?”

“That’s the plan.” Rick hoped what he had to say wouldn’t take long- and that Negan would take it well.

“Are you breaking up with him?” Carl asked, and Rick was momentarily startled by how intuitive teenagers could be.

“What makes you ask that?”

“You’ve been acting weird since you picked us up,” Carl explained, setting his phone down beside him on the bed. “I figured Negan would be with you. Or that you’d be…I don’t know. Acting all happy and stuff like you usually do after dates.” Carl seemed to realize what he’d implied and wrinkled his nose in disgust. Any other time, it would have made Rick laugh.

“We…got in a fight last night.” That seemed to be more palatable to tell Carl that he’d had to practically fight Negan off of him. “I think we may need some space.”

“So you _are_ breaking up with him, then,” Carl said. His phone hand loosely from one hand, and he radiated the kind of misguided omniscience that only teenagers could wield.  “That’s what everyone is really doing when they say they need space.”

Rick cocked his head. “You know that from personal experience?” He wasn’t ignorant- he knew that Carl was most likely glued to his phone because of a girl. That and the fact that he did the telltale shy smile whenever he mentioned his ‘just-a-friend-from-school’ Enid had Rick thinking that Carl was possibly experiencing a little of his own troubles in love.

“ _No_ ,” Carl protested, drawing out the o in a way that had Rick thinking the real answer was _yes_. “Everyone just knows that, dad.”

Rick shook his head. “Alright. If you say so. I’ll be back in a little while. Keep an ear out for your sister.”

* * *

The sound of the doorbell, even from upstairs, was enough to make Negan’s brain feel like someone had jabbed their fingers into it and given them a twist. Laying on the bed, trashcan placed beside him just in case his insides decided to revolt again, Negan made a vow not to get up to answer it. What the fuck was the point?

Except the bell rang twice more, followed by a few knocks, and Negan was about ready to drag his weary body down the stairs just to tell whoever the fuck was at the door to get the hell off his property when his phone vibrated against the bedsheets, its glow faint but hopeful. He snatched it up immediately, and his heart soared when he saw that it was from Rick.

_I’m at your door. Are you awake? I need to talk to you._

Negan was out of bed and down the stairs before Rick could knock again, wrenching the door open without a second thought and drinking in the sight of the man he loved standing on his doormat.

“ _Rick_ ,” he breathed, and he found that he was unable to say more. His brain felt like it was splitting open and spilling out of his eye sockets from the sudden movement but he didn’t care- Rick was _here_ , in front of him, talking to him.

Rick cleared his throat and took in Negan’s disheveled appearance. _Good thing he’s not the shallow type, or else I’d be a little worried_. “Can I come in?”

“Yeah, fuck, yeah, yes-” Negan moved aside so that Rick could step in, feeling lighter than he thought he ever could again. Rick didn’t sit, he noticed- he stood by the couch, guarded but unafraid. Rationally, Negan knew that the silence that stretched between them was only a few short seconds, but he bore the weight of it like Atlas, and he couldn’t stop himself from speaking first.

“I’m so fucking sorry about last night, Rick. I can’t even tell you how sorry. For everything, for...for what happened here, for all the calls and texts- shit, I woke up this morning feeling like I’d died and gone to hell, and it wasn’t just the killer fucking hangover.” Rick didn’t crack a smile, but he didn’t let that deter him. “When I saw what I sent you- Jesus, Rick, I tossed my fuckin’ cookies. Again, not just because of the hangover. That shit makes me sick. Thinking about what I did last night makes me sick to my fuckin’ stomach, baby.” He saw Rick tense a little at the pet name, and pain flared through him. “That’s not _me_ , Rick. I need you to know that. That’s not who I am. I just…I was just so fuckin’ scared, you know? That it would never happen for us. That you’d keep backing out and backing out and one of these days it would just fuckin’ hit you that you didn’t want it- that you didn’t want _me_.” Fresh tears welled at the corners of Negan’s eyes.

“Yeah,” Rick said evenly. “That’s what you said last night. In the car.” He frowned. “I told you that wasn’t how I felt.”

“I know! I know you did, I fuckin’ know.” Negan hung his head and looked abashed. “I just- I love you so much, Rick. More than I ever thought I could after Lucille. There’s been nobody since her, not like this, and- and I’m out of fucking practice.”

Something angry flashed in Rick’s eyes at that. “So am I. That’s why I’ve been wanting to go slow. I haven’t been with anyone since my wife, Negan. And never with a man.  You _know_ that- I trusted you with that, and you promised me you’d respect it. That you wouldn’t force anything, that you’d go as slow as I needed-”

“I know, I _know_ , Rick, and I’m so fucking sorry-”

“Just let me talk for a minute, Negan!” Rick barked, and a hush fell between them again. Negan forced himself to hold his tongue.

“I wasn’t backing out on you, Negan- although I wanna point out here and now that it shouldn’t have mattered if I _was_. You don’t- you don’t _own_ me. I don’t belong to you. You’ve always made me feel safe when we’re together. I wanted you last night like I’ve wanted you for a while, but the way you treated me- that wasn’t the man I fell in love with. I felt used, I felt like you- like you just wanted someone to fuck, and that’s not what I wanted it to be like. That’s not what you told me it would be like.” Rick’s cheeks were pink, but he held Negan’s gaze. “I’m no good talkin’ about my feelings, but I’ve been tryin’ to get better. You helped me with that, so you should know exactly how you made me feel last night. I felt used, and then uncomfortable, and then _scared_ \- and I never wanna feel like that again with you. I shouldn’t have to.”

“You won’t,” Negan promised breathlessly, “you won’t, baby, I fucking swear to you-” he stopped short at the solemn look on Rick’s face, his heart plummeting when Rick spoke his next words.

“I think we need some time apart, Negan.”

Negan blinked rapidly, trying to process what he’d just heard.

“Not for good. I just…I need some space. I need to figure out if I can trust you after this.”

“You can trust me.” Negan’s voice was weak and far away, like he was floating out of his body as he spoke.

“You were violent. I thought you were going to-” Rick swallowed, unable to say it. Negan was grateful for that small mercy. “If it was someone else in my shoes, I’d be telling them to leave, no questions asked.”

Negan was sure he’d stopped breathing. _Leave? For good? No-_

“If you’re not willin’ to wait on me to decide, I understand. If you want, we can end things here.”

“ _No!_ ” Negan’s voice broke on the near-shout that ripped out of him at the very notion. “No, I…I can wait for you. I can. I’ll show you I’m worth waiting for. That what I did last night, what I said, that’s now who I am.”

 _I’ll die before I let you leave me, Rick,_ he wanted to say. Instead, he forced himself to be calm, to say, “I’m glad you’re willing to think about us, Rick.” He kept his hands to himself as Rick walked out his front door. As he watched the man leave, something dark and possessive spread through him, that same impulse he’d gotten last night when he’d held Rick down on the bed.

_You love me, Rick. You said it yourself. You can’t just walk away from that, fuck no. You’ll come back. I know you will._

* * *

Hindsight is always twenty-twenty. Rick’s mother used to tell him that when he was young and got into trouble with Shane and he came home down thirty dollars and one shoe and covered in mud. _Yeah, I can see now how trying to scare Mr. Patterson’s cows with rubber snakes was a bad idea. It was stupid to think we could build a rocket out of firewood and sparklers. We definitely should have just left that snapping turtle alone. Now I know better than to challenge Mindy Cheswick to a bike race when it’s storming out and the streets are flooding._

As he got older, he thought that maybe he’d be better at seeing bad situations before they arose and not engaging. And, to a degree, he was- but he was always human, prone to mistakes. He was better at learning from them, though, and had begun to learn from other’s mistakes as well. To his recollection, the last big thing that, in hindsight, he’d neglected to realize the seriousness of, was how much he’d been drinking after Lori died. He’d needed Hershel and Maggie to pull him back from the brink then, and it was when he’d sobered up that he saw all of the flawed thinking that had led him to drinking himself to sleep every night.

In that week follow his disastrous date with Negan, Rick dissected every part of their relationship in his mind, stitched it back together, and then opened it up again, trying to discern if there were any warning signs he’d missed.

“Tell me everything, then. I’m not trying to be nosy, but it you’re really thinking about going back to him- and I’m telling you right now that I don’t think you should- but if you’re considering it, you need to get it all out there.” Michonne sipped her mocha and regarded Rick with worried eyes over her mug. She was the only one that Rick had told the full story of that night to, and Michonne, as Rick had suspected, had immediately told him to cut his ties with Negan once and for all.

Rick picked idly at his muffin, frowning. “It’s just little things. It’s nothin’, really. I’m makin’ it worse by goin’ over it so much.”

Michonne made a disapproving noise. “You want to know what I think?” she asked, and her tone made Rick smile.

“I think you’ll tell me whether I want to hear it or not. But I do want to know.”

“I don’t like him,” Michonne said simply. “He gives off a weird vibe to me.”

Rick flicked a poppyseed at her. “You met him twice.”

“Twice was enough. I’m good at reading people, Rick. It’s my _job_ to read people, tell when they’re lying, tell when they’re hiding something. And him, popping up in here when we’re getting coffee? It felt weird to me.”

Rick furrowed his brow, considering. “Maybe he just wanted coffee.” He knew how he sounded, but- "I just don't want to be paranoid. See everything as a reason to cut and run." Once upon a time, he'd been to see a therapist who had told him that people often do such things after the loss of a loved on, a way of avoiding attachment. 

Michonne shook her head, loose dreadlocks brushing her shoulders. “As far as I know, that’s the first and only time he’s come here. I’m here every other day, Rick. I’ve got a usual order and the baristas know me by name. I’ve never seen him here. It’s out of his way- I know the only reason you come here is because it’s by the preschool. There’s a Starbucks five minutes from your house in the direction of the school- so why come here?”

“Maybe he had something to do over here. Not everybody stays in the same five-mile radius their whole life. I’m not tryin’ to defend him, I’m just saying- there’s plenty of reasons for him to be over here.”

“Fine,” Michonne shrugged. “You got me there- but I’m telling you, there was something off about him when he saw us. And you said he accused you of cheating on him with me?”

Heat touched Rick’s face. “Yeah. I don’t know why. And with people at work, too- with Aaron, who hasn’t talked to me in a month. I don’t know what I did to make him think that.”

“You didn’t do anything,” Michonne said with utter conviction. “I know you, Rick. Maybe I haven’t known you for long, but I know what kind of man you are. You’re loving, and you’re devoted, and you’re kind. I was getting jealous vibes from him both times we met, and you didn’t do a damn thing to cause it. It’s a problem with him. Anyone with half a brain can see that the way you act around me and the people at work is just friendly. There shouldn’t be a problem with you having friends.”

Rick rubbed the bridge of his nose, trying to ease the lines that had creased there. “I was hopin’ I was just bein’…I don’t know. Paranoid or somethin’. I still think I might be. I’ve been jumpy lately.” He chuckled self-depreciatively and shook his head at his own childish worry. “Ever since Judith said she saw someone in the backyard, I’ve been sleepin’ with one finger on the trigger- metaphorically speaking,” he quickly corrected at the worried look on Michonne’s face. “I’ve been keepin’ Carl’s baseball bat beside the bed, and I think I could undo the lock on my gun case in my sleep at this point. I know it was probably nothin’- neighborhood kids or something. If I had a dollar for every call the station used to get about strange people lurkin’ around, especially in October, I’d have been able to outright retire.”

Michonne reached across the table and squeezed Rick’s hand gently, warmth radiating from her skin and the small smile on her full lips. “You’re a worrier, Rick. That’s not always a bad thing, though. Some of that worry's just good intuition."


	9. Guise

Halloween gave Rick some time to focus on his family instead of Negan, which he sorely needed. The other man had been patient and respectful of Rick’s space for the first week, but when Rick still wasn’t ready to resume their relationship, he’d started pushing. It was subtle- and maybe, Rick thought, it was Negan’s way of reminding Rick that he still cared about him.

It started a few texts a day, more if Rick had time to answer them. Then it was him showing up on the front porch with a six-pack of pumpkin ale and some candy apples for Carl and Judith, which to Rick felt like an underhanded move. Negan knew that Rick’s kids were his weak spot, and he wasn’t afraid to try to win them over to get back into Rick’s good graces.

 _Or maybe you’re just trying to see the bad in him_ , Rick scolded himself. _He’s never done a thing wrong by Carl or Jude. Maybe you’re being too hard on him._

After all, Negan, while persistent, was never violent, not again. He never had anything but apologies and kindness toward Rick, and when Rick told him that he’d rather Negan leave, he left. It didn’t erase his actions that night, but he was respecting Rick’s boundaries, even while he was present.

* * *

“Carl- _Carl_ , maybe we should just give it another hour, alright? Look, let’s just go back, I’ll definitely be good to drive in an hour, more than good, and I’d rather you didn’t- I’d really rather you not drive.” Rick bit his lip as he eyed the way Carl was swinging the car keys around his index finger. _Too casual. He thinks it’s a game._

“ _Dad_ ,” Carl rolled his eyes and sighed, as if Rick not wanting his son to drive them home at midnight Rick himself was very mildly buzzed was somehow unreasonable. “C’mon. I’ve driven this way loads of times. There’s nobody out, anyway. I’ll go ten miles under the speed limit if it makes you feel better.”

Rick shifted Judith from one hip to the other, deliberating. She’d been conked out since nine after a sugar crash brought on from too many cookies and mini Milky Ways at the barn party. Inside, the party still raged on, though sans children, and while Rick was tempted to say they should just stay the night here, he didn’t want to have to deal with getting everyone to school in the morning from the farm. It was hard enough at home.

“Fifteen under,” Rick compromised. “And keep your eyes on the road.”

Carl drove them home with excruciating carefulness, and even Rick had to admit that his driving was perfectly fine. He’d be sixteen in less than a month, and it was hardly the first time he’d driven at night, but even though Rick knew his son was far from reckless on the road, it still made him nervous every time he was behind the wheel.

He was mostly sober as he crawled into bed after double and triple-checking the locks, the last tendrils of alcohol swirling through his system and making him lax and sleepy. It had started sprinkling when they’d pulled into the driveway, and in the time it had taken to get Judith into bed it had turned into an all-out downpour.

There were a handful little pleasures that Rick loved in life, and falling asleep to the sound of rain beating on the roof was one of them.

He’d only just closed his eyes when his phone rang, and when he tipped the light toward his face, he saw the caller id: Negan.

Maybe it was the two weeks apart, or the last of his tipsiness, or the beat of the rain on the roof making him remember simpler days when he and Lori would curl up together in bed on nights like this and fall asleep entwined in each other’s arms, but he answered it.

“Rick,” Negan sounded almost breathless with joy when Rick answered.

“Negan,” Rick hummed in reply, the rumble of his voice like quiet thunder. “It’s awful late.”

The sound of Negan’s laugh on the other line made Rick ache- he really had missed him. “I’m sober, I swear. I didn’t wake you up, did I?”

Rick shook his head, and then realized that Negan couldn’t see him and answered, “No. I’m still up. Just got in bed.”

“Wild night?” Negan teased, and Rick found himself searching for the jealousy that Michonne had seen in him. He was coming up empty.

“Kinda.” Rick stretched languidly, hearing his back pop as he did. “They threw a little Halloween party at the farm. I mean- it was nothin’ wild, really. I let Carl drive home, though. To be safe.” Did that make him sound like a bad parent? Shame collared him a little, but Negan laughed it away.

“With any other fifteen year old, I’d say you would have have been the safer choice, but I’ve seen your kid drive outta the neighborhood before. He’s like a little old lady behind the wheel.” Rick smiled despite himself. “You raised him good, Rick. Not many kids his age take driving as fuckin’ seriously as he does. I expect the ex-sheriff in you gives it a little more weight.”

“I tried not to pull out all the horror stories,” Rick replied. He’d seen the result of that when one of his fellow deputies had started his son’s driving lessons with a tour through old DUIs and deaths behind the wheel. Poor kid was barely fifteen, and he hadn’t wanted to so much as drive around their neighborhood for a long while after that. “He’s such a serious kid sometimes. Sometimes I worry he’s growin’ up too fast, that losin’ his mother made him miss out on all the good parts of bein’ young.” Alright, maybe he was a little more inebriated than he’d thought- he was rarely ever so loose-tongued.

“Nah, Rick,” Negan said gently, his voice a balm to Rick’s nerves. “I think you’re doin’ just fine by him. He’s a good kid. I think it made him grow up in all the right ways. And there’s still a lot of kid left in him. I know you’re doing your best.”

Rick exhaled shakily, feeling strangely vulnerable. He was always, _always_ worried about how he was raising Carl, and he so rarely felt like he could say anything about it. Carol and Ezekiel had everything so together, and Michonne was a single mom juggling a busy career and still had time for Mommy and Me gymnastics classes. Compared to them, he felt hopelessly inept, and it was good to hear from someone that he was doing okay.

“Thank you,” he murmured into the phone, and then, “I’m glad to hear from you, Negan.”

Negan’s rumbling laugh was like the purr of a cat. “I’m glad you answered, darlin’. Get some sleep, alright? You sound like you’re about to conk the fuck out.” Rick’s eyes had already fluttered closed, and he hummed his reply half-asleep, a tired _goodnight_ that Negan echoed into his ear as he nodded off.

* * *

“Are you almost done?” Judith inquired, her wide brown eyes blinking up at Rick as her tried to keep the red face paint lines as precise as he could. Even with Judith practically holding her breath to keep still, they were a little on the clumsy side, but he hoped she wouldn’t notice. Carl had pulled up a zombie facepainting guide for him that he was trying to follow to the letter, but the instructions didn’t account for his decidedly unpracticed hands.

“Almost done, pumpkin,” Rick promised, which was true only because Judith’s face was now covered in color, though he couldn’t tell anymore if he’d made her look like a zombie or like she’d shoved her face into a box of paint. She was all green and red, with lines of fake scratches and bags under her youthful eyes. She, Rick, and Carl had all journeyed to Goodwill a few days prior and picked up some cheap jeans and shirts that they’d cut up and splashed with fake blood that Rick had mixed up- _that_ had been a messy afternoon, and the back porch had looked like a crime scene, but the end result was definitely undead.

Carl had already applied his own makeup- which looked only slightly better than Judith’s- and it didn’t take long for him to get Rick zombified as well. He added the finishing touches of fake blood to Rick’s beard right as the sun was beginning to set, and by that time Judith was practically pinging off the walls. As soon as Rick handed her the purple plastic pumpkin bucket off the top of the fridge, she took off down the front steps and into the yard, waiting impatiently for her father and brother to catch up.

“C’mon! It’s getting dark!” She cried, and Rick had to laugh as he locked the door behind himself.

“We’re still waitin’ on Andre and Michonne, remember, Jude?” Rick called from the porch. “C’mere, watch Carl light the jack-o-lanterns.”

Judith reluctantly trudged back over and watched as Carl took the lighter Rick offered him, flicking it once before taking the tops off of each of their pumpkins and lighting them one-by-one: Judith’s Jack Skellington, Carl’s vampire, and Rick’s classic triangle-eyed pumpkin, all glowing with candlelight on the front porch.  Rick had just enough time to snap a few pictures of Carl and Judith on the steps before Michonne pulled into the driveway and she and Andre stepped out of the car.

“Andre!” Judith shouted from the porch, waving. “I’m a zombie!” She growled at him, fingers curled into awkward zombified fingers, and Andre giggled. He and Michonne were matching, too, both dressed as Ninjas. “You gotta fight me! Go for the _braaaains_!”

Andre brandished his plastic katana with the stance of a much more accomplished swordsman, fake-swinging and stopping short a good foot shy of Judith, always the cautious little boy. Judith played into it anyway, making gagging noises and then dropping to the ground, making her friend giggle.

“Got the whole family out, I see,” Michonne noted. She raised her fist out for Carl to bump it, smiling brightly at him. “I thought you were gonna be the Winter Soldier.” Rick was always pleased at how well Carl and Michonne got on- their shared love of comics definitely bonded them.

Carl shook his head. “Nah. I kept changing my mind, and then I didn’t have time to make the arm…I wanted to do it right, not get one of those stupid fake sleeves from the Halloween store.”

Michonne nodded. “Aah, gotcha. Well, the zombie look suits you. I like the eye.” She poked at Carl’s right cheek just below the fake missing eye prosthetic he’d applied there earlier. It did look convincing, enough so that Rick would be relieved when it came off. “You ready to go?” she asked Rick.

“Oh, yeah. Looks like we’ve already gotten behind,” he noted, nodding to Andre and Judith, who were standing at the end of the driveway.

The three of them followed along behind the pair, stopping at all the lit houses along their street to collect candy. At the first house, the woman next door had dumped a generous handful of mini chocolate bars into Andre and Judith’s baskets before glancing up at Carl with a wry smile on her face. “All dressed up but no basket? Can’t have that.” Carl spluttered, and if he hadn’t been covered in gray-green face paint he would surely have been tomato red as the woman ducked away and returned a moment later with a paper sack that she dumped a generous bit of candy into. She handed it to Carl with a wink and a cluck of her tongue. “Never too old for candy. I always buy loads more than I need. I swear there’s less kids out every year.”

“Thank you,” Carl mumbled, embarrassed and pleased all at once. When they headed down the woman’s driveway, Michonne elbowed Carl in the ribs and grinned at him.

“Don’t be embarrassed by that. Seriously, you’re already out here in a costume. If she’d offered me chocolate, I definitely wouldn’t have said no.”

Carl dug through his bag and pulled out a Reese’s cup. “You like peanut butter?”

“You know I do,” Michonne answered, and as the evening went on, she and Carl shared chocolate and Rick felt blissfully at peace for the first time in weeks. By the time they’d made almost a full lap around the neighborhood and were coming up on Negan’s house-their last stop of the night- Carl was right up front with his sister and Andre, chiming trick or treat with them and carefully picking his candy.

“Hey,” Rick murmured to Michonne as they closed in on Negan’s. “Thank you.”

She cocked her head at him. “For what? Eating my weight in peanut butter cups so you won’t be tempted to?”

“For Carl. What you said to him. I was worried he’d have a rough time tonight. He hasn’t gone trick-or-treating since Lori.” Michonne smiled knowingly and nodded. “It’s nice to see him actin’ like a kid. Sometimes it just hits me that I can’t be his father and his best friend. There’s things that sound different comin’ from someone else.”

“You know I love him,” she said warmly. “He’s a good kid. He deserves a night where he can just enjoy being a kid.”

Judith was the first one up the steps to knock on Negan’s door. He answered a moment later with a grin on his face that even Rick had to admit looked a bit thin. His eyes swept over the five of them, lingering a moment too long on Michonne. His accusations from before rang in Rick’s ears.

“Negan!” Judith crowed, “do you like my costume?” She growled at him playfully, and he smiled a bit more genuinely at that.

“I sure do, angel!” He ladled out generous helpings candy into the kid’s baskets, making Judith and Andre sequel with delight and immediately begin pouring over their spoils. Negan tipped his head toward Rick, and there was something in his eyes…hurt? “You enjoyin’ your Halloween, Rick?” It was an innocent enough question, but somehow it sounded to Rick like an accusation.

“I am,” he replied, and for all his effort to keep the barbs out of his voice he knew there was a touch of defensiveness there. “First real one in a while.”

“Mm,” Negan hummed. “Well, you really got into the spirit.” His long, slim fingers plucked at the bloodstained collar of Rick’s shirt. He’d left it unbuttoned a little lower than usual, and it hung low because he’d bought it a few sizes bigger to make himself look gaunt and undead. Now, with Negan’s warm fingertips lightly grazing his nighttime-cold skin, he felt exposed. “Costume looks good. Got the whole family into it.”

Rick could only imagine what Michonne was reading into this exchange. As it was, Carl had slipped awkwardly away after Judith and Andre, who were swapping candy on Rick’s front porch.

“Wish I’d have known what you were plannin’,” Negan continued, “I could’ve helped. Lucille and I used to do couples costumes every year. I got good at the monster makeup.”

Rick bit his lip, bristling. “I think I worked it out alright.”

“Yeah,” Negan said, sadness creeping into his voice. “Well, it’s good to see Carl’s still into all this shit, you know? I swear, every year there’s less and less kids out here. So many fucking paranoid parents, worried about them running into trouble. Most of ‘em go to the carnivals and stuff at the schools and churches. It’s a damn shame. Lucy and I always wanted to have a little rugrat to take trick-or-treating. Dress ‘em up all cute-as-fuck and walk them around, eat all the weird candy they didn’t like. Almond joys and shit like that.”

Rick had never heard Negan mention him and Lucille liking Halloween that much before. It seemed like something he would have mentioned before tonight. Rick had told him about how much Lori loved it ages ago.

“Anyway,” Negan continued, “I’ll let you two go. Enjoy your night.”

He didn’t slam the door in their faces, but the sentiment seemed to hang in the air all the same. Rick and Michonne stood uncomfortably on the front porch for a moment before walking back next door to Rick’s. Michonne didn’t speak up until they were all in the house and the kids were caught up in swapping Tootsie Pops for Skittles.

“You saw that too, right?” Michonne murmured. She leaned against the kitchen counter while Rick made them both tea. Rick nodded, scuffing his boot on the floor.

“Yeah. Yeah, I did.” There was no use in dodging it, not after the palpable hostility that had radiated from Negan. Rick was sure that the man hadn’t been like that the other times he’d met Michonne. Surely he wasn’t _that_ blind.

“I don’t like it, Rick. I don’t like _him_. I’m telling you this as your friend- there’s something wrong here. He’s one step away from pissing on you like a dog marking his territory, and that’s not the kind of person you want in your life. That’s not someone you can trust, and that’s not someone who will ever trust _you_.” Michonne kept her voice down so the kids couldn’t hear, always considerate. Rick stared into his mug, his heart heavy and aching. “You haven’t done anything to deserve him acting like that, Rick. You’re one of the best men I know.” She sipped her tea, and the two of them stood in agreeable silence while Rick mulled the events of the evening over. When she collected Andre, who was lying on the couch next to Judith, sound asleep in his sugar-coma while The Nightmare Before Christmas played on the living room television, she gave Rick a small smile.

“I can look into him, if you want,” she offered quietly. “Do a background check. I’ve got a few friends in the police department that’d be more than willing to do me a quick favor.”

Rick blinked hard, reeling. “A- a background check? You think that’s necessary?”  But in his head, he chided himself- _you idiot, you should have thought of that yourself after he got violent. You haven’t been off the force long enough to be slipping like this._

Michonne shrugged- a brave feat considering she had a four-year-old snoozing on her shoulder. “I don’t know. It may come up with nothing- but it can’t help to be sure, right? Possessive people make me nervous. A lot of them are quick to turn violent. If he has a history- assault, domestic disputes, stuff like that- wouldn’t you want to know?”

Rick thought of Carl and Judith, of the way he and Lori were always carful about their discipline style. Lori had been raised strict and authoritarian, and she’d fought back hard against it, never wanting to raise a hand to their children in frustration or anger. Rick had always liked that, and the thought of Negan being a potentially volatile or violent person, especially around his kids...the decision had pretty much been made for him.

“Alright,” he agreed. “Just to be safe.”

* * *

The reception area of the Animal Welfare League of Alexandria was cheery and bright, and when Rick, Carl, and Judith stepped inside, a kind-faced young man that looked to be only a few years older than Carl greeted them at the front desk. His nametag read _Noah_ and he was more than happy to helpfully walk them through the kennels, answering Rick’s many questions about what kind of dog would be best for their family. As soon as Carl and Judith were too busy petting the dogs pleading for their attention, Rick turned to Noah.

“I’m looking for one that’ll be kind of a watchdog,” he said quietly, just loud enough to be heard over the barking. “My daughter- she’s been feeling a little unsafe since we moved here. I’ve had big dogs before, I know how to handle them well…I just want something that will help her feel safe.”

Noah nodded. “We get that from time to time. I may have just the lady for you. I’ll bring her out if you three want to step into one of the meet-and-greet rooms.”

The meet-and-greet rooms were about half the size of Carl’s bedroom with a few choice toys for the dog to play with, and intended to see whether or not the dog and prospective owners would get along. Rick herded his children in while Noah fetched a leash, and a minute later he walked in with a large, friendly-faced German Shepherd that immediately began wagging its tail when Carl reached out to pet her.

“Her name’s Roxy. Only been here a few weeks, her old owners gave her up when they moved out of the country. She’s really sweet, good with kids, and German Shepherds are great watchdogs. Very vigilant, very protective.” Rick and Noah watched as Carl sank to the floor to better rub Roxy’s belly and Judith followed cautiously, reaching out with a hand nearly the same size at the dog’s large paw. She startled a moment when Roxy rolled back over to better see her, and every parental instinct Rick had was firing when the dog’s snout neared Judith’s face.

There was a flash of a large, pink tongue and then Judith was shrieking with giggles as Roxy licked her cheek, and Rick felt the tension leave his shoulders. The moment Judith threw her arms around Roxy’s furry neck, completely uncaring about dog drool, Rick knew that she was coming home with them.

A half hour later, Rick was finishing up the paperwork while Noah was filling him in about when they knew about Roxy. Carl and Judith were still enamored of the dog, playing tug-o-war and fetch best they would in the small space.

“She’s already spayed and microchipped, and her old owners had her since she was a puppy, so we have a pretty good idea of her temperament. They said she’s good in cars, which is a plus. She is scared of storms, though, but a lot of dogs are. We’ve got all her medical records on file here, so you can take those and find a vet close to home. Oh, and she’s up to date on all her shots, and she’s halfway done with a round of heartworm pills-”

The way Carl and Judith were looking at her, Rick would have taken her home even if she was scared of squirrels and still had to be housebroken. “Thank you,” Rick said as Noah clipped on Roxy’s leash and handed it over to him. “I appreciate all the help.”

Noah smiled warmly. “No problem. It’s good to see her going to a new family.”

Roxy hopped right into the backseat and sprawled out on the two seats beside Judith, laying her snout in the girl’s lap, much to her delight. Carl volunteered to run to Petsmart to pick up some food and toys while Rick got Roxy acquainted with the house.

She was perpetually curious, sniffing around downstairs with Judith following closely behind the whole way. By the time Carl got back, she was more than ready for a meal. As soon as Rick filled her dish, she’d wolfed it down, and then trotted into the living room, curled up on the rug, and fell asleep while Judith scratched between her large ears.

“I heard what you said to Noah. About wanting a watchdog.” Carl murmured. “Is this because of- of what Jude saw?” In that moment Rick was reminded that Carl, for all his bravado and strength, was still just a kid. A kid who had been through more than any kid should have to go through, a kid in a new home still struggling to reconcile his old life with the new. He wasn’t blind- Rick knew that all of Judith’s nightmares and sleepless nights lately had been worrying Carl, too. And if Rick had been freaked out seeing something moving in the woods…well, Carl may just be, too.

“I want both of you to feel safe. And, if I’m bein’ honest, I’d feel safer with an alarm system that has teeth.” Rick smiled, and Carl returned it. “I wanted to get another dog eventually, anyway. I know how much you loved Misty when you were Jude’s age. And if it helps us all sleep better at night, well…that’s alright, too.”

Carl nodded, his face taking on that _I’m-too-smart-for-my-own-age_ look that always amused Rick. “Alright.” He turned to Judith and grinned- she’d fallen asleep using Roxy as a furry pillow, one arm half-draped over a paw. “Seems like she’s sleeping better already.”

* * *

Rick slept downstairs on the couch that night to keep an eye on Roxy. So far, she’d been good about letting them know when she needed to be let out, but he wanted to be cautious. Judith had pleaded with him to let her stay downstairs with them, too, but he’d vetoed that- it was a school night, after all, and he knew that if he let her stay downstairs with the dog, especially after a long midday nap, she’d be up all hours of the night. _This weekend_ , he promised her. We can all sleep downstairs. _Maybe we can make a pillow fort, too…we haven’t done that in a while._

A sharp bark startled Rick awake, his heart ready to burst out of his chest. He sat bolt upright on the couch, tangled in the blanket, the hair on his arms raised in goosebumps. The room was dark, only faint moonlight spilling in through the cracks in the blinds that Rick immediately wished he’d closed completely.

“ _Roxy_ ,” Rick called quietly, trying to shake off his nerves enough to step into the kitchen. _Maybe she’s just getting used to being somewhere new_.

Something was off, though- Rick knew it as soon as he stepped into the kitchen. Roxy’s ears were pricked and alert, her tail raised and the fur along her spine standing on end as she stared out the backdoor, still as a statue. Painted in soft blue shadows from the darkened kitchen, she looked like a statue.

The back door was mostly see-through, paned with windows to look out onto the porch and into the backyard. It had never bothered Rick to walk by it before, but now he found himself nearly petrified at the thought of looking out.

_Something’s out there._

He wasn’t sure if it was just Roxy’s soldier’s stance or his own intuition, but in that moment he _knew_ something was wrong. He’d had moments like this back on the force- he’d always been good at reading the room like that, thinking before charging. It wasn’t a sure thing, but there had been more than one occasion where he and a fellow officer had been doing a seemingly routine check on something that Rick had immediately sensed there was more to than met the eye. House calls about wild parties where frat boys had been getting a little too handsy with incoherent girls in back rooms, reports of kids smoking weed in an abandoned building, and when he’d checked inside, there had been one teenager half-dead in a closet, the needle still in his arm. His rational side was Shane or Lou telling him, _man, there’s nobody in there, it was just fuckin’ suburban moms worryin’ about neighborhood gangs because they saw a couple teenagers on a street corner._

But Rick _knew_.

He took one good step toward the door to see out of it, and the moment he moved, everything happened at once. There was a flash of white light right outside the glass that blinded him for a moment while Roxy barked her head off, lunging and scratching at the door. Rick fumbled for the leash on the kitchen counter in the dark, barely managing to get it clipped on as he opened the door. Roxy all but wrenched his arm out of its socket, still barking and whining as they lurched into the dark.

Even over the noise, Rick could hear the sound someone retreating through the dry autumn leaves decorating the grass. He squinted into the dark, and his heart stopped when he caught sight of something- _someone_ \- running into the thick of the trees behind the house. His pulse pounded in his throat, fear and protective instinct coming to a head.

_Someone was outside our backdoor in the middle of the fucking night while my children and I slept._

Roxy wrenched and lunged all at once, pulling her leash out of Rick’s grip and charging toward the treeline where the footfalls had come from. Rick took off after her, clearing the porch rail in a leap that would have made his high school track coach proud.

“Roxy!”

Unthinking, Rick tore through the woods after the dog, his sole focus on catching the person who had been lurking outside of his house, terrifying his children.

The sound of something that wasn’t leaves made Rick’s rapid footfalls come to a stuttering stop. It’s wasn’t a natural sound, and it made a chill run down his spine. Soaked in frigid sweat, hair standing on end, Rick felt rooted to the spot, both hoping he would hear it again and praying he wouldn’t.

_Click._

He stiffened, muscles drawn tight, jaw clenched, and whirled toward the sound. Through the dense thicket of trees and underbrush, he couldn’t tell what was a branch and what could be a person.

_Click._

Something rustled the leaves on the ground, too big and too rhythmic to be an animal.

_Click._

He knew that sound- it was the whirr of a camera shutter.

“You want a fucking picture?” Rick shouted, his voice roaring even over the sound of Roxy’s frantic barking. He stepped cautiously, straining to listen.

With the exception of Roxy’s growling, the woods were silent.

“Roxy!” Rick called, fighting his way through branches and thorns. Up ahead, he saw what had brought their pursuit to a stop- there was a fence along the back of the property line, dividing the woods in two and dividing their neighborhood from the next one over.

Whoever had been lurking on Rick’s porch had scaled it and escaped into the night.

Roxy was persistently sniffing along the line of the fence, ever vigilant. Rick picked up her leash and rubbed the top of the dog’s head, trying to calm both her and himself as he shushed her.

“Good girl. That’s a good girl, Roxy,” he murmured. His hands trembled like he’d been caught in the freezing cold, and he was helpless to stop the tremors. On unsteady legs, he walked them both back to the house, where Carl was waiting on the back porch with a baseball bat in his hands, half the lights in the house on.

“Dad…? What’s going on?” Rick could head the fear in his son’s voice, and was torn between telling him the truth and comforting him with a lie.

“Roxy saw something,” Rick murmured as he led the dog back into the house. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Carl answered, his blue eyes wide and panicked. “Judith’s awake, though. Did you…did you see anything?” He sounded like we didn’t really want to know the answer. Rick wasn’t sure if he _needed_ to know the answer.

“I don’t know,” Rick said slowly. “I- it was dark. She was definitely chasing something, though. It could have been an animal.” He thought of the flash of light at the window, the camera shutter clicking. He reached for the bat, and Carl handed it over, worry etched onto his face that was mirrored on Judith’s as she came charging down the stairs and into her father’s arms.

“What’s wrong with Roxy?” She asked, clinging to Rick’s neck like a koala. She took one look at the bat in Rick’s hand and stiffened with fear. “Someone’s out there. The monster.” Her small voice broke, and Rick could hear the tears coming, could feel them wetting the collar of his shirt as she clung to him.

“Nothing’s wrong, Jude,” Rick murmured as he rubbed her back. “Roxy’s just doin’ her job, alright? Nothing’s wrong.” He and Carl shared a look over her shoulder. “Go upstairs with Carl, alright? Daddy’ll be up in a minute.”

She went reluctantly, and it was only after Rick had triple-checked all the locks and shoved chairs beneath the door handles that he finally ventured upstairs to find Carl and Judith both sitting on his bed. In a trembling voice, Judith asked him, “Can we sleep in here with you?”

Rick felt his heart shatter. He was on the bed and pulling the two of them into his arms before he could even think, trying not to show his own fear on his face. “Of course you can. C’mon, get in.” Roxy had trotted in after him, and Rick closed the door behind her while Judith and Carl settled into bed, Judith safely in the middle, sealing them away in a protective bubble if only for the night.

* * *

When Rick dreamt, it was of harsh white light and the rhythmic _click_ of a camera shutter that he could still hear reverberating in his head when he woke in the morning, sweaty and breathless.

_Just a dream. It was just a dream._

His thin t-shirt clung to him even though his bedroom was winter-cold. Rick shivered when he silently slid out of bed, careful not to wake his sleeping children, and gave Roxy a scratch between the ears before stepping into the bathroom. The heat of the shower rejuvenated him just a little, enough that when he redressed and stepped back out into his bedroom to wake Carl and Judith for school, he could appear solid and unshaken.

When Ezekiel told him he had the day off a week ago, he’d been excited. Working in the chilly November air hadn’t been fun, and he was grateful for the reprieve. Now, though, home alone with the kids gone away to school, he felt vulnerable. He found himself checking the lock on his pistol again and again, counting the bullets and then packing it safely away, twitching when he heard the mail truck drive by. He couldn’t help but notice that Roxy didn’t seem bothered by that- she simply got up to take a peek out the front window, alert until the truck drove away, but didn’t bark.

Rick had just told Judith yesterday that they weren’t going to let Roxy up on the furniture, but no later than noon, she was sprawled on the couch with her head in Rick’s lap as if trying to soothe him with her presence.

His phone rang and they both nearly jumped out of their skin.

Rick huffed a small chuckle and ruffled the dog’s fur, shaking his head. “Just the phone. Guess I’m a little jumpy,” he mused. Michonne was calling- unusual for a weekday afternoon.

“Hey,” he answered, “everything-”

“ _Rick_ ,” Michonne hissed on the other line. He tone immediately brought Rick back to full attention. He sat upright on the couch, heart pounding. “There’s something you need to know.”


	10. Reveal

Rick was at Michonne’s office in a cool fifteen minutes, grateful for the lack of traffic and cops patrolling the side streets. Her words, spoken urgently into Rick’s ear, rattled around in his head like loose change as he stomped the gas.

_You need to see this. This is serious, Rick- you need to get over here right now. Lock your doors before you leave._

_Lock your doors._

_This is serious._

In that fifteen short minutes, Rick’s overactive brain worked overtime to drive him into a panic of worst-case scenarios.

_He assaulted someone. He beat up an ex-partner of his. He murdered someone. He murdered his wife. He killed a kid. He-_

Michonne’s office was only one floor up from the lobby, and Rick took the stairs because he was sure that if he stood still for another second he would spontaneously combust.

He stepped out of the stairwell and wandered the hallway until he found Michonne’s office- number 213. 

She was waiting for him there, all solemn and somber with the shades drawn behind her and the withering light of her laptop screen illuminating her face, the light dissipating across her cheekbones.

Rick didn’t want to know what was on the screen. He didn’t- but he found himself drawn to it anyway, sleeping beauty to the spindle.

“Rick,” Michonne murmured gently, “I’m scared out of my mind for you.”

Well, that certainly didn’t make reading Negan’s record any easier. He did it anyway, though, and Michonne let him sit. He barely remembered easing himself into the chair, didn’t recall her settling into the leather-upholstered seat across from him. He was tempted to beg her to come back- like a child, he wanted someone beside him for this. The dark polished oak between them felt like miles instead of a couple short feet.

It wasn’t a long rap sheet, but it certainly told a story. Multiple charges of harassment by a few different names that Negan had never mentioned. Some women, some men. Two assault charges- one filed by a Dwight Baxley, the other by a Mark Harris. 

It was disturbing that those weren’t the most alarming charges filed against Negan.

Rick couldn’t quite process what he was reading. It didn’t make any fucking sense.

Multiple charges of harassment and breaking and entering. Allegations of _stalking_.

It all culminated in a neat, tidy document that had been signed, sealed, and delivered by a court of law: a restraining order filed by Lucille Farrow, dated a little over seven years ago.

 _Lucille_ , who Negan had claimed to be married to.

 _Lucille_ , who had supposedly died of cancer ten years ago.

 _Lucille_ , who Negan still had pictures of around his house, hanging like monuments to his past- a past that Rick now realized was a complete and utter _lie_. Rick glanced over the monitor and met eyes with Michonne, who was regarding him with worry.

“He- he fucking _lied_ to me,” Rick croaked out, which seemed like the least of the charges against Negan. “Lucille, he- he has photos of her on his _wall_ , Michonne. He calls her his goddamned wife…Jesus, I opened up to him about Lori because I thought we’d gone through the same thing, and he…” Rick swallowed hard, ashamed to realize that his eyes were burning with tears. _He’s a fucking crazy person, you idiot. And you fell for it, hook, line, and sinker._ He swiped at his cheeks, face blazing with shame, and Michonne was beside him in an instant, pulling him into her strong arms.

“Oh, Rick. C’mon, don’t do that. Not over him.”

“I should've _known_ ,” he whispered, and his voice broke along with the dam holding back his tears and rage. “I should have fucking known! He-he fucking-” He floundered for words, rage engulfing him, and the _gall_ of it all. Negan was probably laughing his ass off at the former sheriff’s deputy who didn’t even realize-

“You couldn’t have known, Rick,” Michonne scolded gently, wiping his angry, frustrated tears away with the pad of her thumb. “You liked him. He was good to you, to your kids. Don't you dare blame yourself.”

He did cry then. He wept quietly, the sobs shuddering out of him as the tears seeped into Michonne’s crisp purple button-up.

“I should've seen it,” he rasped when he’d run dry. His whole face felt puffy and soaked through with sorrow, his bones weighed down to the marrow. “You saw it. You knew.”

“It’s my job,” Michonne murmured, a humorless smile curving her full lips, “and I’ve been told that I’m a touch paranoid.”

Rick wiped his eyes, suddenly embarrassed as he came back to himself. “I loved him,” he confessed, and it felt like Michonne was a woman of the cloth, here to absolve him of sin. _Forgive me, for I have let someone into my life who could have hurt my children and myself._ “I told him that I did. I _know_ that I did.” _And how do I reconcile that? How do I make peace with the fact that I allowed this person into my heart and my home without a second thought?_

“You should never let him keep you from loving, Rick. Not ever, do you hear me?” How could he not, though? In the moment, it was so hard to see this any anything but a sign that moving on from Lori had been nothing but a colossal mistake. As if reading his mind, Michonne spoke again. “Don't think for a second that people like him are all that's waiting for you out there."

God, he hoped not.

He wasn’t sure how long it was before he pulled away and was able to look Michonne in the eye. She had such intense eyes- lawyer’s eyes, inscrutable and tough, but also strong and valiant. Rick took one look at her and counted himself lucky to be among the people she cared for.

“What are you going to do now?” She asked with a gentle tone and a kind look on her face.

Rick’s phone vibrated in his pocket, and when he pulled it out, he had his answer. He tapped out a quick reply before tipping his face up to Michonne’s again and asking, “can you pick up Carl and Judith and keep them for the day? I need to know they’re safe.”

She nodded brusquely, and within five minutes Rick was back in his car, driving steadily toward home. A plan knitted itself together in his mind as he drove, and while it was half-formed and potentially unsafe, he didn’t have much time, and he knew it.

 _Photographs taken without Ms. Farrow’s consent. Recording devices found in her car and home. Records of threatening text messages and phone calls._ Rick knew that the police didn’t dole out restraining orders without due cause. Even the brief summary of the evidence mounted against Negan had been terrifying. Hell, Rick was an ex-cop and the thought of Negan having even a fraction of the access he’d had to Lucille’s life was enough to make him feel violated and sick. Lucille had been a single woman living alone, and Rick’s heart ached for her.

 _Maybe it hasn’t gotten too bad_ , he hoped wildly as he pulled into his driveway. Negan’s car was still gone, thank god. _Maybe there will be nothing to find. Maybe the past is just the past._

* * *

_You have any brown sugar? I need another half cup to finish these cookies before I go pick up the kids._

Negan read Rick’s text mid-chew and chuckled at the thought. Rick was positively woeful in the kitchen, so of course this would happen to him. He could see it now: Rick trying to surprise Carl and Judith with fresh-baked Snickerdoodles when they got home from school, flour dusting his face like a scattering of white freckles…and of course he hadn’t checked to make sure he had all the ingredients before he got started.

What he _really_ wanted to do was drive back home and surprise Rick with a full bag of brown sugar, maybe stick around and help him finish the cookies without burning them. But, sadly, it was only quarter to one and Negan still had three periods left to go before he was home free. He licked honey mustard off his thumb and tapped out his reply. _Sure do, darlin’. Got a spare key in a little black box hidden in the rose bushes next to the porch. Help yourself. Don’t burn your damn house down._

 _Thanks_ :)

Maybe the high schoolers were rubbing off on Negan, because that fucking smiley face made him feel like he was floating on air. He gazed at the text for a long moment, sure that he had a dopey, lovesick smile plastered across his face.

It wasn’t just that he was back in Rick’s good graces, though. Sure, that was massive, but after last night, Negan had barely slept, terrified out of his goddamned mind that Rick had caught sight of him during the late-night debacle with that fucking _dog_.

Just the thought of that mutt made Negan see red. He crumpled his empty sandwich wrapper in his fist and hurled it across his office toward the wastebasket in the corner, missing by an inch.

Rick had gotten a _dog_. And not just any dog, a goddamned psychotic killing machine of a thing that had nearly outed Negan to the whole damn neighborhood. He slacked on tracking Rick for _one_ goddamned day, and that little fucker had slipped away and gotten himself a guard dog. When Negan had _specifically_ told him that he didn’t like dogs.

After last night, he hated them with a newfound passion. As if Lucille’s little yapmonster that had gone off like a goddamned burglar alarm every time he'd gotten near her apartment hadn’t been enough to put him off of them for life.

It wasn’t all Rick’s fault, of course. Negan was understanding- he probably got the dog for the kids. And to be fair, Negan probably should have cut and run the second he’d heard the bitch snarling at him from the other side of the door, but Rick had showed up, his hair all sleep-mussed wearing only a pair of loose sweats and a thin tee that clung to his broad chest…Negan was only a man, after all. He’d had to snap a few pictures. Rick had been so wild with adrenaline and fear and protective papa-bear instinct that he hadn’t noticed the way his sweats had slid down a little on his hips when he’d run outside.

But _Negan_ had, and now he was the proud owner of several photos of a wild-eyed Rick in his backyard, looking so goddamn _gorgeous_ in the moonlight with the pale skin of his hipbones and lower belly exposed. Negan had nearly been caught just to snap those photos, and somehow that made them even _hotter_. He’d been so hard when he finally slipped back into his home that all it took for him to come was a few seconds of him grinding against his own palm through his jeans. He was half-hard right now just recalling the experience.

In all his months of carefulness, he’d forgotten that there was a certain thrill that came with a narrow escape like that.

His lunch period was very nearly over, though- not nearly enough time to do what he wanted. _When you get home you’ll have some real fucking fun_ , he reminded himself. He’d set up last night’s photos to print right before he’d left the house, a little treat for himself for making it through the day.

It hit him as he stood up to retrieve his trash from the floor, that horrible, gut-sinking realization.

_I didn’t close the fucking office door._

* * *

Pinpricks of blood welled on Rick’s right arm as he fished through the rose bush to get to Negan’s spare key, but he could barely feel them. He shucked the small box to the side after he retrieved the key within.

The sound of the front door tumbler was like a gunshot in Rick’s ears, and when he stepped inside, he was struck by a thought.

_You’re being insane. You’re searching through his house. If there’s nothing here, you’re nearly as bad as the person you think he is._

The guilt was almost, _almost_ enough to make him turn around…but then he recalled last night again, the heart-pounding terror of knowing someone was on his back porch, right outside his door. He remembered the blinding flash of the camera and the click of a shutter as he tried to find the person who had startled him awake.

Negan had been out there. Rick knew he had. 

It wasn’t just about him, though- it was Carl and Judith, too. If Negan had done to Rick what he’d done to Lucille, the man was not only invading Rick’s privacy, but his children’s as well.

And if he was the one that Judith had seen outside, the reason she’d been having nightmares every other night…well, Rick wasn’t sure exactly what he would do to him.

Every light in the house was off, soft afternoon light streaming through the windows to dance across the marble countertops, but Rick wasn’t interested in the kitchen. He climbed the stairs instead, taking them two at a time in his hurry to get in and out. Being here without Negan felt wrong, and he felt oddly like a child with his hand in the cookie jar before supper, waiting with baited breath to see if he could get away with snagging a snack before his parents caught him.

He poked his head into Negan’s bedroom first. It was untidy, just like Rick remembered it- socks on the floor, closet ajar and strewn with shoes at the bottom. The first morning Rick had woken up here, he’d rolled over to see the photo of Negan and a sleeping Lucille on the bedside table and thought it was heartbreakingly sweet. Now, he saw it for what it was- disturbing.

_He took that without her knowing. He broke into her home to take that, and he’s kept it all this time._

He felt faintly ill.

There was nothing particularly damning in Negan’s bedroom, and for the briefest moment, Rick thought that maybe, just maybe, Negan didn’t have anything on him after all. It would surely be in here, right? Somewhere intimate, somewhere close by- except…

Except that Negan still thought he had a chance of getting Rick into his bed, so of course he wouldn’t leave something like that lying around in here.

Across the hallway, Rick saw the ajar door of a room too small to be a bedroom. The door that had been closed the morning he’d slept here.

He found himself in front of the door, pushing it the rest of the way open without consciously choosing to do so. It was, indeed, too small to be a bedroom- intended to be a home office, maybe, or a nursery. It was cluttered in one corner with boxes that looked to be untouched since Negan had moved in, but Rick barely registered them, because pushed up against the far wall beside a window that faced Rick’s house was a desk.

And all around the desk were photos tacked to the wall, dozens of them, little holes decorating the drywall like they’d been taken down and re-pinned over and over.

Rick’s breath left his lungs, and he could feel the burn of it, the desperate clawing need for air, but he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t speak, though he wanted to scream.

They were all photos of him, none of which he remembered being taken.

There were ones of him sitting in the living room, washing dishes, eating dinner with Carl and Judith, all of them shot from far away through windows.

_There’s someone outside, daddy._

There were ones of him asleep in his bed, his own goddamned _bed_ , peaceful and oblivious.

_There’s someone under your bed, daddy._

And there was one- the only one that he did recognize, because he'd taken the picture himself. It was one that he’d sent Lori when he’d had to go out of town for a weekend seminar in Mississippi and they’d both been horny and he’d had a few glasses of wine over dinner. It was the most intimate photo he’d ever sent someone- a photo intended for Lori only. He snatched it off the wall, sending the thumbtack skittering across the floor, his face burning hot with humiliation. _How the fuck did he even get this? How did he-?_ In a flash of realization, Rick pulled out his phone and began scrolling through his photos back months, and then years, before-

And there it was, saved to his camera roll because he’d foolishly forgotten to delete it.

_He got it off my phone. He scrolled through all those photos on my phone to find this._

Rick deleted it instantly, cheeks flaming.

_How long has he been able to get into my phone?_

He shredded the photo into ribbons until it was impossible to tell who or what had been in the picture. _At least I was smart enough not to save the photos Lori sent me back._ The thought of Negan seeing her in that way made his stomach churn and bile rise in his throat.

If there had been any doubt lingering in Rick’s mind about who had been outside his house last night, the photos that caught his eye next erased it. Sitting fresh and pristine in the tray of the printer were shots of him from the night before- through his back door, looking startled; on the back porch, squinting into the blackness of the yard; in the woods, searching the trees for someone who he’d thought had slipped away but was really still lurking close by. He flipped through them again and again in a haze, barely able to process what he was seeing. As the photos progressed, he noticed a few excluded his face altogether. There were shots of him from behind, his pants slipping to show skin and the band of his briefs.

_While I was out there thinking that someone was trying to break into my home- to hurt my children, he was- he was fucking-_

He could barely stomach the thought. Last night had left Rick feeling vulnerable and small and terrified, and Negan had been _getting off_ on it.

The photos fell from his hands and fluttered to the floor, scattering in all directions. What did it matter? He’d already ripped up one of the photos on the wall. Negan knew that he was here right now. As soon as he stepped into the room, he’d know that Rick had found him out…and what then?

_You’ve gotta stay calm. Come on now. Carl and Judith are safe. You know what you need to do here._

Rick drew out his phone again and began snapping photo after photo of the display- the photos on the wall and the ones on the floor, the fancy camera and the lenses. He rooted through the drawers, finding more photos- dozens, hundreds, stashed away in file folders with fucking labels on them.

_At home after work. At the bar with coworkers. Coffee with a friend. Eating dinner. Halloween._

With trembling hands, Rick leafed through some of them, dread knotting deep in his stomach. _Michonne was right_ , he thought bitterly, _he took these that day I was getting coffee with her. He followed me there._

He snatched a few here and there and shoved them into his back pocket just in case Negan tried to destroy all the evidence. There was one long, shallow drawer that didn’t have much weight to it when Rick pulled it out, and it was empty save for the small object that came rolling into sight when Rick opened it, an object he hadn’t seen in over a month, one he worried he would never see again: his simple silver wedding ring that had gone slightly tarnished with wear and age, a perfect match to the one Lori had worn right up until the day she’d died. Hers, at least, he'd kept locked safely away in the bottom of a drawer, too painful to draw out except when he knew he needed to cry. At least Negan hadn't taken that one, too. 

It was his, there was no question. He knew even before glancing at the inscription etched onto the inside of the band: _To my Rick, love forever._

He slid the ring back onto his bare finger and felt a lump form in his throat. Negan knew he’d been missing that ring- that he’d been distraught when he’d lost it. Fuck, he’d called the man frantic nearly in tears to ask if he'd seen it. _And he let me think it was gone. He fucking stole it out of my bedroom._

The last thing that Rick had yet to touch was the laptop that sat open and idle on the desk. When he tapped the keyboard, it booted up and asked for a password. _Goddamn it_. He considered just taking the whole thing, but even in the wake of what Negan had done, it felt wrong. _If I can’t get in, I’ll run with it. What did Carl tell me about making a phone password? Never use your birthday or the birthday of a kid or spouse because people will guess that._

He tried it anyway- Negan’s birthday, Lucille’s, and then his own when those didn’t work.

_Incorrect password._

He tried their names, tried to think of significant dates in Negan’s life.

 _The fake date of Lucille’s death?_ Incorrect password.

 _Both of our names together?_ Incorrect password.

 _The day Negan and I met?_ Incorrect password.

He felt foolish typing out ‘negangrimes’. It was asinine-

-but it worked.

Rick didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. _Like a damn middle schooler writing the name of their crush on their notebook._

The desktop seemed innocuous enough. A couple files, some internet shortcuts. Rick clicked through the tabbed folders at the bottom of the screen, searching for anything damning.

More photo files, some word documents…they all had innocent enough names, but Rick knew better than to trust them. Back in King County, they’d gotten a handful of instances where the perp’s laptop had to be searched and dumped, and he could still remember the stories from the guys who’d had to log it all- child pornography stashed away ten folders deep alongside vacation photos to throw people off the trail. Logs of victims’ tracked whereabouts in documents labelled _Resume_ or _Mom’s_ _Brownie Recipe_.

Sure enough, when he opened them, there were more photos of him and even some ones of Lucille that were dated as far back as eight years. A shudder ran down Rick’s spine at the sight of Lucille caught unaware walking on a rainy day beneath a wide purple-striped umbrella. Immediately, he felt like a voyeur just looking at them and closed the folder. The only other pinned program was something that looked like a webcam, which was suspicious since Negan’s webcam was taped over. Rick glared bitterly at the piece of duct tape and gritted his teeth. _Don’t like the thought of someone else watching your every move, do you?_

He opened the program, unsure of what to expect. Maybe it was software for the camera?

The program loaded and it took him a moment to process exactly what he was seeing, because _it couldn’t be, surely fucking not, there’s no way, he didn’t, he fucking didn’t-_

But he had.

There, on Negan’s laptop screen, streaming live, was Rick’s bedroom, the time ticking away on the right bottom corner. Roxy was curled up on the floor beside his bed, sound asleep and waiting on someone to get home and rile her up. Rick’s socks from that morning were lying on the floor, his bed still unmade the way he’d left it.

Panic built in his chest so rapidly that he didn’t see it coming until he was struggling to breathe right, something primal burning ferociously in his chest. _My house. The room where I fucking sleep, where my children slept last night. Is this the only room he has?_ He tasted bile rising in his throat at the thought of Negan having access to Carl or Judith’s bedrooms like this. He couldn’t see any other feeds in the program, but what if he’d hidden them? Rick was hardly the most technologically savvy person, he could easily be overlooking them.

 _He had to break into my house to get this._ The realization dawned on him with an icy chill like water dripping down his spine. _He’s never been away from me long enough to set this up while he was a guest there._

_There’s someone under the bed, daddy._

No. No, no, _fuck_ no.

Rick’s shift in demeanor was instantaneous from one second to the next. One moment, he’d felt weak and shaky and like he was going to vomit at the sheer violation of it all, and the next, he was solid as a stone, resolute.

_Carl and Judith can’t come back there. Not until he’s far, far away from us. Not until that house has been torn apart to the goddamned drywall to find everything he put there to watch me._

Rick slammed the laptop closed, hoping that the screen would crack with the force. He was out the front door in a matter of seconds.

* * *

All in all, it took him less than five minutes to sniff out the camera in his bedroom. He knew the angle it was set at- perfectly set up to capture his bed.

_So he could watch me sleep, watch when I-_

Rick tried to swallow down the humiliation of it all. His mind insisted on recalling the late nights when he’d crawled into bed and texted Negan before sleeping, how Negan would flirt incessantly, say things to get him riled up.

_You’re touching yourself right now, aren’t you, Rick? One hand down the front of your boxers, rubbing that gorgeous dick? Aw, honey, are you gettin’ all wet for me?_

Rick had always joked to himself that Negan had a sixth sense about it, but now he knew the truth- he’d been _watching_.

Apologies would have to be made to Carl and Judith when Rick felt it was safe for them to come back home- he’d just about ripped their rooms down to the nails in an attempt to find more cameras. Logically, in the part of his brain that wasn’t frothing at the mouth with unbridled protective rage, Rick knew that there likely wasn’t anything to be found- nothing he’d seen had indicated that Negan was interested in anything but Rick, and his hiding place for the camera in Rick’s bedroom had been less than creative, but he was on a rampage.

Michonne texted him once to let him know that the kids were safe and sound with her and that she’d given Carl enough of a heads up that he knew not to talk to Negan if he tried to get in touch.

It was after Rick had forwarded her the photos for backup and made a call to the police that he heard a knock at his front door, that telltale one-two-three… _four_ that, for the first time, sent a chill down his spine. Through the thin white curtains shielding the windows that framed the front door, Rick could see a faint lanky silhouette like the big bad wolf come to call.

_Little pig, little pig, let me in._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fun fact about how much fanfic has mingled with canon for me: i almost made dwight's last name the same one as in another fic because i forgot that it wasn't his canon last name. oops.


	11. Confront

Negan didn’t even bother to check the kitchen for signs of Rick, simply making a beeline up the stairs and to the left, where the office door still hung ajar.

_There would be no fucking reason for him to come up here. He came here to get sugar, he shouldn’t have even been upstairs. Everything’s probably fine, you’re flipping your shit over nothing-_

His heart stopped when he saw the photos he’d printed this morning scattered across the floor. When he’d left, they’d been neatly stacking themselves in the printer tray to dry as they'd printed…maybe it had gotten too full and they’d spilled over onto the floor? Maybe-

“ _Fuck!_ ”

Pain jabbed through his socked foot and he took an involuntary step back to see a small piece of clear plastic where he’d just stood. He plucked it from the floor, frowning- a thumbtack.

The photos that Negan had gathered up fluttered back to the floor when he saw it. It was unmistakable- Negan’s eye was so used to naturally drifting to the one spot on the wall that the empty place felt like a jagged, gaping hole rather than a small expanse of pale beige with an array of tiny pinpricked holes decorating it from all the times the photo had been taken down and pinned back up.

Except now, the photo was gone, and Negan was holding its thumbtack in his hand.

It wasn’t on the desk or behind it, but then, he hadn’t expected it to be. The tack was halfway across the room, like it had been ripped from the wall with force. Like the person that had seen it hanging proudly on Negan’s wall had been horrified to discover it there.

He was out the front door and on Rick’s porch in under a minute.

_Knock knock knock…knock._

He could see Rick’s shadowed for moving vaguely from behind the thin curtains and wondered for a moment _will he even open the door?_

* * *

Negan was all smiles when Rick opened the front door, but something about him was clearly off-kilter. He felt sharp at the edges, lupine, his smile so firmly set it was more like a bearing of teeth.

They didn’t speak for a long moment, and Rick’s eyes followed Negan’s to his own left hand that once again bore his wedding ring.

The smile grew wider, and Rick wondered if it would just keep going until Negan’s face split to reveal the monster beneath the charming mask. “How about I come inside, Rick.”

It wasn’t a question, and as such he didn’t wait for an answer, simply shoving roughly past Rick into the foyer, aggressively shoulder-checking him on the way in. Roxy stood vigilantly in the living room, following Negan's movements with her dark eyes. With any luck, Negan wouldn't see her.

 _He's t_ _rying to intimidate me_ , Rick thought as he watched Negan stride into his kitchen and begin rifling through the cabinet beside the fridge. He watched silently, shoulders drawn up and squared, as Negan withdrew the single bottle of wine stashed there- the one Negan had given him the first evening he’d come to call. Rick hadn’t touched it since- he didn’t like drinking on his own, not anymore- and the bottle was over half-full.

Negan wrestled the cork back out and let it fall to the floor before taking a deep, luxurious swig straight from the bottle, his long fingers gripping the neck in a way that made Rick's skin prickle. The sound of the thick glass setting heavily back on the counter was like a gunshot in the tense, silent air of the room.

“So,” Negan drawled, eyes flashing, “I see you finally found your ring.”

Rick flexed his left hand, trying to will away the tremor there. It wasn’t fear, though- no, not with his children gone. It was something much more complex than that, a desire flowing through his blood that tried to convince him how good it would feel to lay that fist into Negan’s toothy grin over and over again until his wedding band was dotted with ruby red.

“Yeah,” Rick replied evenly, and then, because there was no point in beating around the bush: “found it in the strangest place, too.”

“Hm,” Negan hummed. His tongue swiped over his lips, the wolf licking blood from its jowls. “Funny how that fukin’ works, isn’t it? How things just… _turn up_ where you least expect to find them.” He cut Rick off before he could snarl out a retort, one unconvincingly lax hand waving him off. “No, let me speak, sweetheart.” Rick could have bit his throat out. The fucking _nerve_ of him to be so goddamned condescending- “See, when I moved here, I was trying to get away. Start a new life, as it were. I know you can relate.” He managed a facsimile of a friendly smile, but Rick’s face remained stony. “I wasn’t lookin’ for anyone new. No- the exact fucking opposite, in fact. I wanted a nice, quiet life to myself. Make some friends, sleep around a little. Really live out my life as a happy-go-lucky bachelor, you know?” He snatched up the bottle and took another long draw, grimacing. The corners of his mouth dripped with scarlet before he wiped them away with the back of his arm, the wine dewy on the black leather of his sleeve. “But then _you_ showed up.”

His eyes were mocking now, bitter as sin and nearly as black. His knuckles were going white where he was gripping the narrow neck of the bottle.

“You show up next door, looking just as sweet and innocent as the goddamned Georgia peach that you are,” Negan continued, “and you fucking _ruined_ me.”

The snarl that ripped out of Rick’s throat was dowright feral, and he had to clutch the side of the countertop to keep himself from lunging forward and wrapping his hands around the man’s throat. “You? I ruined _you?_ ” he hissed. “You broke into my home- followed me, watched me, put a camera in my goddamned bedroom so that you could- could fucking _get off_ on watching me when trying to force yourself on me didn’t work-”

“ _I didn’t force myself on you!_ ” Negan shouted, slamming his fist onto the counter. Yesterday’s mail, still stacked there, went flying in all directions onto the floor. His body shook, and Rick nearly, _nearly_ took a step back. _Don’t show weakness._ The moment Negan shouted, Roxy began barking, startling them both when she crept into the room, ears tucked back and gaze focused on Negan, who was glancing from the dog to Rick. “I _didn’t_ ,” he repeated in a whisper, more to himself than Rick.

“You’re fucking sick,” Rick growled. “You held me down. You kept going when I told you no, when I told you to stop-”

“No, _no_ , that’s not how- that’s not what I was going to-”

“You would have kept going if I hadn’t gotten you off of me,” Rick growled with certainty. He’d felt it that night- no amount of begging or pleading would have stopped Negan from taking what he wanted. “You would have held me down, the man who you claim that you love, and you would have raped me.”

Rick managed to duck right as the bottle sailed toward him. It smashed against the oak cabinets, splashing Rick with sticky-sweet burgundy as shards of glass rained down. Roxy yelped once before barking again, and Rick was satisfied to see Negan flinch and edge away from her. 

“Don’t you _dare_ say that shit to me, Rick!” Negan snarled, “I never- I _never_ would have-”

“But as it turns out, you don’t have a problem ignoring people’s boundaries, do you?” Rick continued. “No, you get off on it. With me-”

“Shut the fuck up, Rick!” Negan’s face was going red, veins bulging in his neck. Rick took a step back toward the stove, his hip bumping the counter when Negan circled around to get closer to him, tracing every footstep with one of his own.

“-with Lucille.” Rick finished, satisfied when Negan’s footsteps came to a stuttering stop, his face slack and white with horror.

“How-” he breathed, his voice barely above a whisper, “how the fuck do you know about Lucille?”

Rick’s fingers searched the sticky, soaked counter behind him. He couldn’t tell what was wine and what was his own blood from the slivers of glass slicing into his palm. “I know I play a good civilian these days,” Rick answered evenly, “but for all the research you’ve done on me, seems like you forgot that I was a cop for years.” No way was he telling Negan that Michonne helped him. The less of a target on her back, the better. He was surprised how even his voice was- he supposed that was a remnant from his deputy days as well. “I know that you did the same thing to her that you’re doing to me now. I know that she was never your wife- that you never even dated her. She was some poor woman you decided to make life hell for.”

Negan took another step closer, eyes flashing dangerously. “Don’t you _dare_ fucking talk about her.” His fingers flexed at his sides- a warning.

 _The cops will be here any minute, asshole,_ Rick thought _. Just try it._

“I wish I’d been as smart as her,” Rick breathed, letting hate seep into every syllable. Negan was practically on top of him, and he could hear the pounding of blood in his ears and his palm, but he didn’t have anywhere else to turn. “I wish I’d never let you into my home- let you touch me, let you be around my _children_.” The thought of Negan in the same state, much less the same _room_ as Negan, made Rick’s stomach clench.

“Don’t- don’t fucking say that, Rick,” Negan pleaded. His hips were flush against Rick’s- and he was fucking _hard_ , practically rubbing himself against Rick’s thigh. He reached out to draw his fingertips along the strong line of Rick’s jaw. “Baby, you were made for me. We _both_ know it. I know you still want me,” he ground hard against Rick, pinning his hips to the countertop. “You just need to give in. I'm not the man I was with Lucille. Let me show you.”

The moment Negan’s hand snaked down to grab Rick through his jeans, he lashed out.

He clutched a shard of the shattered wine bottle, feeling the glass cut into his palm, and slashed at Negan’s side, trying to get the man off.

He heard the Negan scream, a high, floating noise that made Rick’s ears ring. Negan wrenched back just enough for Rick to see the damage- the bloodied scraps of his shirt, blood pattering onto the floor like rain and mixing with the wine.

When Rick looked up, Negan’s hands were pressed his hands to the wound in his side, blood seeping through his long fingers. He sank to his knees on the kitchen floor, eyes wide with shock and a look of betrayal that rankled Rick.

The deep green glass, now tarnished with blood, clattered to the floor. Negan lunged for it, and Rick _ran_. His feet slid out from under him like a startled deer on ice, slipping in the red puddles tarnishing the hardwood floor. It only took him a second to get back on his feet, but a second was all Negan needed to snag the hem of Rick’s jeans.

“Kill- _me?_ ” Negan gasped out and jerked him back with as much force as he could muster. Pain shot through Rick’s right arm as he tried to catch himself, only succeeding in sparing his face from the glass at the cost of his hand. He didn’t dare look at the extent of the damage- the near-burning sensation licking up his arm was more than enough to deal with in the moment. Rick kicked out, trying to free himself from Negan’s grasp, but the man was on his leg like a bear trap, one hand on his ankle and one on his knee. “Kill _you_ -”

He felt the intent of Negan’s strong grip a moment too late. There was a sickening crack of bone and Rick heard himself scream, his voice shattering like the bones of his knee beneath Negan’s hands.

For a moment, it overshadowed the searing pain in his palm and he thought, _oh, god, this is how he kills me. Carl and Judith are going to come home to see cops out front and find my body in the kitchen-_

There was a flash of brown fur beside Rick, and then Negan was shouting, screaming at the dog that was now snapping and lunging at him in defense of her owner. The death-grip Negan had on him loosened, and the second it did, Rick kicked out again, nearly biting through his tongue when his mangled leg came into contact with the solid wall of Negan’s body. He glanced behind him just long enough to see Negan crumpling, pale and bloodied, onto the ruined floor.

He wasn’t about to wait around for the cops. The house felt heavy-laden with anguish, and he knew he couldn’t stay here- not tonight, not until he knew Negan was behind bars. With some difficulty, he dragged himself to the foyer, grabbing his keys from the table by the stairs, and limped outside with one hand on Roxy's collar to keep her by his side, leaning heavily on the porch as he made his way to the car. She jumped readily into the backseat, her lean body tense and drawn. 

It wasn’t until he went to shift the car into drive that he noticed his hand was cut nearly to ribbons, deep gashes spreading crimson all over the gear shift and steering wheel.

 _It would be my right side that he fucked up_ , Rick thought bitterly- driving was _hell_ , and he came dangerously close to wrecking the car amid the throbbing, inescapable pain that ripped through his right leg, only worsening when he dared to press the gas or brakes. His body screamed with agony the whole drive to Michonne’s, the pain singing in his blood and making him a little woozy and lightheaded.

He practically fell out of the driver’s seat, hissing breaths escaping through his teeth. He didn’t want to crawl up Michonne’s front steps, didn’t want Carl and Judith to see him looking like this, but he couldn’t stand.

“ _Rick_!”

Michonne’s voice had never sounded so sweet.

“Jesus fucking-” she sounded utterly shaken- Rick didn’t want to know how he looked. “Come here. Can you walk? Your leg looks-”

“Broken,” Rick managed, gasping when she helped him to his feet with an arm beneath his shoulders.

“Rick, what the hell-”

“ _Dad!_ ”

Rick’s eyelids fluttered and then Carl was in front of him, racing down the driveway and helping Michonne walk him into the house. “Jude- Judith- I don’t want her to-” Rick began, and Michonne hushed him.

“She and Andre are in the backyard. I’ll keep her away. Down the hall, Carl.”

Rick was deposited onto something plush and firm, and the moment his weight lifted from his leg, he let out a soft moan of relief. Black speckled his vision, fuzzing out Carl and Michonne’s faces like an old, tarnished photo reel, taking over until everything faded away.

* * *

Rick woke with a start, his heart racing in his chest like it was about to burst from his ribcage. He was vaguely aware of Michonne and Carl fussing over him, saying something about his hand, the hospital-

“No!” he yelped, suddenly wide awake and panicked. Carl and Michonne both startled and turned toward him, looking concerned. “Can’t- I can’t stay here, _we_ can’t stay here, Michonne, I- he- the cops are- I called them, but he’s- he’s-” He wanted to believe that Negan was bleeding out on his kitchen floor, but he knew better than to rely on things like hope. “I don’t know if he’s alive or not,” Rick admitted in a breathless whisper, the weight of the confession nearly suffocating him. He’d been a cop for years- had been in shootouts, had even taken a life before. It had taken a toll on him then, and that had been a stranger, a carjacker shooting at him and his colleagues, his _friends_. Negan had been someone he loved, someone he’d been intimate with...he could barely bring himself to think of the man bleeding to death by his own hand, in his own home.

“I called Tara while you were out,” Michonne said, her voice tight and guarded. Her warm eyes were fogged with worry, and Rick knew without a doubt that no good news was coming next. “She was one of the cops on the scene. Insisted on going because she knew it was your address. She said they didn’t find anyone there.” Rick closed his eyes, trying to contain the hot swell of panic that was rising in his chest. Bile burned the back of his throat. “Said they found a fair amount of blood, but nothing that someone couldn’t survive. They were still searching the area when we talked, and she said she’d keep me updated, but...he wasn’t there.”

Nothing felt shocking anymore- Rick was too numb to be surprised that Negan had somehow managed to make it out alive. His brain felt like it had shut down to protect him from going into complete catatonic shock.

“We have to leave,” he repeated. “ _Quietly_.”

“Rick,” Michonne frowned, one hand on his shoulder. Her touch was warm, and probably the closest thing that Rick could get to comfort outside of his children, but he barely registered it. “It’s okay. We have to get you to a hospital, your leg-”

“Fuck my leg!” Rick cried, “we have to go. _Now_.”

Carl and Michonne exchanged looks, and it was a moment before Michonne spoke.

“I’ve got him, Carl. Go look after the kids for a minute, alright?”

As soon as Carl was gone, Rick jumped headlong into explaining. Michonne would understand. As a parent, she would know why he had to get as far away from Negan as possible.

“He tried to kill me. Came at me- threw a bottle at me, I- I cut him. I don’t know how bad, I…” When he closed his eyes, all he saw was Negan’s shocked, pale face staring up at him. “He snapped. He fucking snapped, and I don’t know if he’s still out there, but my family- they can’t be here. We have to _go_.”

“Where?” Michonne asked. She pulled his hand into her own, dabbing over the cuts with disinfectant. Clearly, she was determined to patch Rick up as best she could before he ran off.

“Hershel’s.” He hadn’t even known that was where he was going until he said it, but as soon as it left his lips, he knew that was where he needed to be. He felt safe there, and somehow he just knew that being back on his home turf would make him feel more at ease. As it was, he doubted he’d be able to sleep peacefully for a good, long while.

“Look,” Michonne began, frowning at his leg, “I’m all for you getting out of town. And you know I’d never stop you from doing what you thought was best for your kids. But you’re not really fit to drive for ten hours. You’re not fit to drive at all, actually. I’m shocked you managed to get here.”

Rick decided not to tell her about his near-miss at a stop sign and how he’d nearly backed into the neighbors’ mailbox. She didn’t need to know.

“I’m fine,” he insisted unconvincingly. As if seeking to prove his point, he sat up, teeth sinking into his lip to hold back the noise of discomfort that threatened to leave him. _Christ_ , it felt like his leg had been shredded from the inside. He knew the smile he faked to cover the grimace looked more pained than anything.

Michonne nearly smiled back, he saw it. It was a frustrated, long-suffering sort of smile, but it was still something other than worry, and it made Rick feel a little lighter. “You’re not,” she sighed, “but like I said, I’m not about to stop you.” Rick moved to get off the bed only to be pressed back down with a firm hand to the center of his chest and a stern look. “But you’re going to let me fix up your hand first. And your car needs to be looked over-”

“For a tracker,” Rick finished for her, nodding grimly. “Yeah, I thought of that on the way over. Shit, Michonne- if he’s still-” _alive_ \- “what if he comes here? After you and Andre? I didn’t mean to put you in the crosshairs- _fuck_.” _Stupid, careless_ , he reprimanded himself. “I’ll drive the tracker out somewhere and leave it, if there is one. A motel or something. Put him off the trail.”

“ _I’ll_ drive the tracker somewhere,” she corrected. “Carl doesn’t need to be driving any more than he already will be. And Carl _will_ be the one driving.” She eyed him sternly, and he closed his mouth right before he could protest. “Sorry to say, but it’ll be safer to put him behind the wheel than you right now.”

The crease between Rick’s brows deepened, but he didn’t argue- he knew she was right. Thank god Carl was a cautious driver, or else Rick would be in a panicked frenzy to try to get off the grid or build an underground bunker to keep his family safe from Negan.

* * *

There wasn’t much to be done about Rick’s leg- even a clean, simple break would have been difficult to set properly by someone with no medical expertise. All Michonne could do was give him some painkillers, clean and bandage his battered hand, and hope for the best. Rick promised her and Carl that he'd have it looked at when they got to Georgia. Hershel was a doctor, after all. A Veterinarian, but still. Surely he could do something to hold Rick over until he could get to a hospital.

It didn’t take long to find the tracker on the car- Rick knew where to look, having seen similar devices during his time on the force. He held the device in his hand, sickly horror rising in his gut. _All this time. All this time that he was in your home, making your family dinner and putting his hands on you and playing Candyland with Judith and showing Carl how to perfect his curveball- he was doing this._

He hated that there was a part of him, way deep down beneath the sea of panic and rage and humiliation and hurt, that missed the man he had believed Negan to be.

He tried to crush that feeling the same way he crushed the tracker beneath the heel of his boot, stomping on it over and over until it was a heap of ruined pieces on Michonne’s front sidewalk.

In the end, he still begged her to get rid of the pieces and leave for a couple days- somewhere that Negan wouldn’t think to find her if he decided to come calling on Rick’s friends when he discovered him missing.

“Promise me you’ll call as soon as you’re out of town,” he said to Michonne as Carl started up the station wagon. "Keep me updated, but don’t tell me where you are. I don’t know if he’s got some way of seeing what’s on my phone.” He sounded paranoid, crazy- but Michonne wasn’t acquiescing out of pity and Carl wasn’t rolling his eyes when Rick had told him what they were doing and why.

“I promise,” she said, closing the car door behind him. “Be _safe_.”

Heading south, back home to the Greene’s farm, possibly pursued by someone that had tried to kill him earlier that day, Rick felt anything but.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're nearing the end! Probably two more chapters and it'll be wrapped up. Thanks so much to everyone who;s been reading this!


	12. Flight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God I know this is massively late!! Idk how I managed to get this off-schedule.

The stabbing feeling in Rick’s leg had mutated into a constant, nagging howl of pain as they sped down the interstate and the evening turned to dusk all around them. They’d been at it for hours now, and Judith had only just nodded off, much to Rick’s relief. He’d been doing his best to keep her entertained thus far, playing I Spy and letting her fiddle with the princess dress up game he’d downloaded on his phone for her. They’d made it through her Disney animal singalong cd three times before Rick finally had to switch over to The Beatles so he could sing Judith to sleep with _Hey Jude_ , which had thankfully made her doze right off. Singing _Everybody Wants To Be A Cat_ while they were fleeing home had been a little much for him to handle. Roxy had fallen asleep with her head in the girl's lap not long after Judith had dozed off, and Rick felt a surge of affection for the dog whenever he caught sight of her curled close to Judith in the rear-view mirror. She'd been a part of their family for such a short period of time, but she was already protecting Judith like she was one of her own pups. 

Carl had remained tight-lipped for the most part up to now, likely because he didn’t want to upset or scare his sister. His face had been set in the same resolute, immovable mask since they’d gotten in the car, and while Rick couldn’t fault him for not knowing what to say, he also felt the heaviness of the silence like a weight on his chest.

“Carl,” Rick began in a low murmur, “we need to find somewhere to stop soon. You can’t drive the whole way without sleepin’.”

“Didn’t sound like we had time to stop,” Carl replied curtly. “What about your leg?”

“I’ll get my leg looked at when we’re back in Georgia and you and Judith are with the Greenes.” _When we’re safe_ , he added mentally, but even as he thought it, he knew that it would be a good, long time before he ever felt safe again. He seriously doubted he’d sleep at all tonight. A glance out the window at the road signs showed that there was a Motel 6 just off the next exit. “Get off on the next exit. You need to sleep.” He’d been marinating in guilt since they’d gotten in the car, and it only seemed to be growing more potent the longer Carl had to drive. “I’m- I’m sorry, Carl. You shouldn’t have to do this. If I could drive, believe me, you wouldn’t be-”

“It’s fine, dad.” Carl still had that look on his face, and Rick hated himself for being the reason his son looked so aged and harrowed. “I don’t need to stop. I’ll just drive through Starbucks or something. Get an espresso.”

“No. You’re getting sleep. Coffee’s not going to get you the rest of the way there.”

“I stay up way later than this on the weekends, you know.”

“Yeah, I know,” Rick retorted, “I can hear you talkin’ to your video game. You know I don’t like you talkin’ like that, even if you think I’m asleep and I can’t hear it.”

The eye-roll Carl responded with was the first time he’d looked like himself all day. “I’m fifteen, dad. Everybody swears.” It felt almost normal for a moment, but then- “Negan swore all the time and you didn’t get onto him about it.”

Carl’s voice dropped off at the end of the sentence, like he hadn’t meant to bring the man up but it had slipped out anyway against his will. The silence was back then, thick and awkward and weighty.

In a poor effort to relieve the tension, Rick replied wearily with, “well, we won’t have to worry about that from now on.”

That seemed to open the floodgates.

“Dad, what happened?”

Rick wasn't sure how to explain things without going into too many of the gory details. “Negan- he’s not who I thought he was.” He knew that wasn’t nearly enough. Carl drummed his fingers against the steering wheel to the beat of _Eleanor Rigby,_ frowning _._  “He crossed some lines. A lot of lines. He-” Rick wasn’t sure how to phrase it. Was there a gentle way of telling your son that his dad’s boyfriend had broken into the house and planted a camera there? Or that he’d followed Rick like he was a private investigator trying to catch him cheating? “You know he put a tracker in the car already.” Carl nodded. “He- he broke in at least once. Put a, uh- a camera in my room.” Rick’s stomach twisted, and he felt a strange sense of shame when the words left his mouth. Carl looked horrified, disgusted.

“What the _fuck_ -” he caught himself at the look on Rick’s face. “Sorry. What the _hell_.”

“I made sure he didn’t put them in you or Judith’s rooms,” Rick assured him quickly, “it was just mine.”

“As if that’s not creepy enough,” Carl scoffed.

“It just- it makes me feel better knowing it was only me,” Rick confessed. “He was the one outside the house the other night. He’d done it before. I think- I think he was the one Judith saw outside.” And didn’t that just make him feel like father of the fucking year, knowing he’d been dating the man who had given his daughter nightmares. “I’m worried that he may have been in the house while we were there, that she saw him under the bed and-” he broke off, unable to continue.

_Not my bed, daddy._

“I’m so sorry, Carl,” Rick whispered. “I can’t tell you how sorry I am that I let him- I brought him into our lives. You know that you and your sister are the most important things in this world to me, and I- you weren’t safe in our own home.” His eyes fluttered closed, burning behind the lids. “All I want is for you both to be happy, to be safe. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do to keep you safe.” 

"Dad," Carl murmured, so quiet that his voice blended in with the soft melody of the radio, "you didn't know. And you _are_ keeping us safe."

Rick couldn't speak, his throat too thick with emotion. Instead, he reached out, placing one hand lightly over his son's where it gripped the steering wheel as they turned off onto the next exit. 

* * *

Rick thanked his lucky stars that he ended up having cash on him to pay for the motel room. He wasn’t sure how far Negan had wormed his way into his privacy, but he didn’t want to run the risk of him somehow having access to his bank account. Paranoid? Maybe, but he felt that he’d more than earned the right. Either the motel management didn't care about animals in the rooms or they just didn't notice Roxy trotting into the room alongside the Grimes family. Judging by the lackluster state of the room, Rick figured that Roxy was hardly the least civilized guest that had stayed here.  

Carl, despite all of his protests to the contrary, must have been exhausted because he fell asleep not ten minutes after his head hit the thin, worn pillow on his tiny hotel bed. Roxy curled beside him on the floor, ears pricked. Rick could have sworn that she could sense all of his apprehension.

A predicted, he didn’t sleep, not for a minute. Instead, he tore into packet after packet of instant coffee on the dresser beside the ancient tv, mixed it with lukewarm tap water, and sipped it while he watched his children sleep and kept one eye on the door. Judith was cocooned in blankets and pillows on the bed Rick should have been sleeping in, her face cherubic and innocent, still so blissfully unaware of what was happening.

 _A trip to see grandpa Hershel, Jude._  That was what he'd told her as they were strapping her into her carseat. _And Maggie and Beth and Glenn. I know you’ve missed them. It’ll be fun, I promise. No, honey, don’t worry about school. We won’t be there too long, okay? It’s just a little vacation._

She hadn’t put up a fuss- she loved the Greene-Rhee family as much as Rick and Carl did. For a minute while they'd been nearly living there, Rick was worried she was going to start calling Maggie _mama_ for all the time she spent following her and Beth around.

Rick had called Hershel hours ago and given him a brief rundown of the situation, enough to let him know that they were in immediate danger. The man had offered up his home as refuge before Rick had even asked and gratitude had welled in Rick at the kindness, the love in his old friend’s voice.

He was second-guessing that choice now that he was able to think a little more clearly. Maybe it would be better to drive off in some random direction that Negan wouldn’t think to look. The idea that he could be putting Hershel and his family in the crossfire made Rick ill, but there was nowhere else he felt safe leaving his children. That big house in the middle of nowhere, armed with the shotgun-toting farmhands that worked the land with the Greenes, made Rick feel at ease as much as he could.

 _No_ , he thought. _No, the kids need to be there. I know they’ll be safe there._

* * *

Everyone was groggy the next morning, but after a large coffee, Carl was more than ready to hit the road again. It was another five hours of driving down winding backroads deep into the heart of the Georgia countryside until the grand white farmhouse appeared in the distance, the Grimes’ own personal Eden in the cruel badlands of the earth.

Hershel was waiting on the porch, grinning and laughing as he swept a delighted Judith into a grandfatherly hug.

“Well, there she is! If I didn’t know any better I’d have thought you grew another foot since I last saw you.” Judith beamed at this, squaring up her shoulders to look even taller. Rick’s heart ached and he leaned heavily on the hood of the car and watched Hershel dote on his children, all love and worry in his eyes. He ran a weathered hand over Carl’s long, wild hair. “I’d say you finally passed your dad with all this.”

“You’re next,” Carl grinned, nodding at the white ponytail hanging down Hershel’s back, and the old man laughed. Rick nearly wept at the sight of his son’s smile, so relieved that what was happening hadn’t completely enveloped him. He was so in tune with everything around him, keen in a way that made Rick nervous at times. Being back at the Greene farm seemed to turn back the clock to a simpler, less fear-wrought time. Roxy, who had initially been hesitant, sniffed at Hershel's trousers and began wagging her tail when the man reached down to scratch between her large ears.

"Who's this now?" He asked, and Judith jumped at the chance to introduce her new friend. 

"Roxy! We rescued her from the pound!" 

"The humane society," Carl corrected.

"Well, she sure seems to love you, Miss Jude. 'Bout three times your size, though." Hershel smiled warmly, letting the dog lick his hand.

"I'll be bigger than her one day," Judith boasted. 

"I don't doubt it, sweet pea." Hershel’s eyes flitted down the porch to where Rick lingered, and that’s when the guise slipped and Rick saw the fear, the worry lining his face. “You comin’ up here, Rick?”

Breathing out heavily, Rick gestured to his right knee and shifted awkwardly on his feet. “I’m gonna need a little help. Are Maggie and Glenn-”

“I’m here.”

Maggie’s hair was shorter than Rick had last seen it- cut to a tidy, practical length that framed her face. Hershel must have told her what was happening, because she looked drawn and watchful. “Glenn’s helpin’ Beth get a room ready for you. What’s wrong with your leg?”

“Daddy’s leg got hurt,” Judith offered up, her little teeth sinking into her bottom lip. Out of everything, Rick’s injuries were the only things that had scared her- likely because they were the only things she could see.

Maggie was already down the stairs, one arm sliding beneath Rick’s while Carl took his other side. Rick tried not to sag on them despite his exhaustion and the shooting pain in his leg every time he moved it. Together, they helped him up the porch. Hershel kept one hand in Judith’s tiny one, comforting her.

“Take him to the bedroom down the hall- he doesn’t need to be goin’ up and down the stairs on that leg.” Hershel led Judith and Roxy into the house and locked the door behind them. “Judith, why don’t you run upstairs and say hi to Beth and Glenn? Let them know you’re here. I know Bethy's missed havin' you around.” The little girl’s eyes were huge and blue with worry, but she followed her orders anyway.

As soon as Carl and Maggie had helped Rick into bed, Hershel was beside him, helping him awkwardly wriggle out of his sweatpants. As soon as those wise blue eyes fell to Rick’s knee, his stomach dropped a the expression on Hershel’s face.

Carl and Maggie waited in the doorway as Hershel felt around the shattered bones, up Rick’s thigh and down his calf to determine just how much damage the break and subsequent strain had caused.

He said exactly what Rick knew he was going to say.

“You need to go to a hospital, Rick.”

“I can’t.” Rick shifted up on the bed and then immediately winced. “I can’t do that.”

“Your leg's been broken in a way that’s difficult to set right. This isn't a matter of putting a splint on it and callin' it a day. Breaks at the joints aren't somethin' you want to let be- you may need surgery. Doesn’t help that you’ve waited this long to have someone look at it.” There was weary disapproval on Hershel’s face, and Rick sighed.

“I had to leave. I didn’t have time to wait around, not when I knew that my kids weren’t safe.”

“Rick, all I can do for you is set this best I can, but that's really not enough. This isn’t something I’ve done before. I could set it wrong, you could lose mobility-”

“I’d rather be down one leg than be _dead_ ,” Rick snapped, and he regretted it immediately when he saw Carl flinch. “Carl-”

Hershel turned to Maggie. “Let me talk to him. Alone. Please.”

Maggie nodded, one arm around Carl’s shoulders as she closed the door behind her. Rick scrubbed a hand over his face. His head was throbbing, the caffeine he’d been guzzling for the past day finally draining out of him and leaving him exhausted and aching from head to toe. “Shit.”

“Watch your language in my house,” Hershel warned, but the humor in his voice didn't meet his eyes, and Rick made a noise somewhere between a laugh and a sob.

“I can’t go to a hospital,” Rick whispered, eyes closed to try to relieve the pounding in his head and the burning of his dry eyes. “Not yet. Not right now. I will when this is all over, you know I will, Hershel. I just need somethin’ to tide me over. Please.”

Hershel exhaled a long, weary sigh, and the bed shifted beside Rick as he got up. His uneven footsteps disappeared down the hallway, and Rick counted the long moments before he heard them return. He felt his arm being flipped over, something cool swabbed there-

“I don’t need it,” Rick insisted as Hershel drew up a shot of morphine. “Really, you don’t need to-”

Hershel cut him off with a stern, fatherly look that Rick hoped he could pull off half as well one day. “If you don’t want your little girl worryin’ about you, yes you do. This is gonna hurt quite a bit, Rick, I’m not gonna lie to you. You don’t want her hearin’ and gettin’ more scared than she is.”

Rick swallowed hard, eyes on the ceiling, following the pattern of the plaster as the needle pressed against his skin. “Alright.”

* * *

In the end, he was thankful for the painkiller. From the way Hershel was looking at him, he had a feeling that the damage to his leg was worse than he could have hoped for. He frowned disapprovingly when Rick insisted on getting out of bed to talk to Carl, and only let him wander the house after Glenn found an old pair of crutches in the attic from when Hershel had broken his own leg a few years back.

“You need to let the police handle this, Rick. I mean it. You’ve got no way of dealin’ with a man like that on your own. Definitely not with that leg. You were a cop all those years, you can’t trust them to do their jobs?” Hershel frowned at him from where he sat in the roching chair across from Rick on the front porch. Roxy had immediately flocked to Rick’s side when he’d come hobbling out of the bedroom and hadn’t left since. Vigilant as a soldier, she lay with her ears pricked beside Rick’s chair.

“It’s not that I don’t trust them,” Rick argued, “I just know how these things go sometimes. They can’t always get there in time, and that’s not a risk I’m willin’ to take, not with the kids involved. When I found out that he’d- that he’d fled the scene, I panicked. Realized he could be anywhere, that I didn’t have a clue where I could go to keep Carl and Judith safe. That whole time we were driving, I kept thinking that he could have gone to the farm, gone to Michonne’s or Tara’s or Aaron’s…it scares the hell out of me, Hershel, knowin’ that he could go after any of the people I care about to get to me. I don’t know him. I guess I never did, and that mean I don’t know what he’s capable of.” Rick took a long, shuddering breath as he recalled Negan’s words in the kitchen, the way he’d lunged, the look in his eyes when he’d thrown the bottle. “He could have killed me right there in my own home. In the kitchen we’d shared meals in. I can’t tell you for sure that he would have stopped. Everything in me wants to say that he would have, but I don't know that that's true.”

_Kill you._

“I don’t want to sit around and wait for him to find me, or for him to do somethin' to try to lure me out. I’ll drive myself crazy just sittin’ here hopin’ that the police track him down before he tracks us down.”

The deep creases between Hershel’s white brows deepened. “What are you sayin’?”

“I’m saying that there’s somethin’ I need to do. Just me.” Hershel already had that look on his face, the _you’re-being-stupid_ look, and Rick scrambled to get ahead of it. “I won’t go far. But I can’t wait for him to find me, Hershel. I can’t.”

Hershel shook his head. “No, Rick. You came here for a _reason_. He’s injured, the police are involved. You need to let them do their job, and you’ll be doin’ yours by staying here. With our children.”

“They’re not safe as long as he’s out there-”

“And you think they’ll be safe if their father’s gone?” Hershel snapped, the fire in his voice rebuking Rick. “You think they’ll be any better off if you go out and do god-knows-what to find him. You just said it yourself, Rick- you don’t know him. He could hurt you. He could _kill_ you. Is that what you want for Carl and Judith?” Rick’s head dropped and he swallowed hard, torn and afraid. “You’ve been through somethin’. I understand that. And you’re not the kind of man to take this lyin’ down. But runnin’ off and tryin’ to handle this man on your own isn’t the answer. You’re smarter than that.”

Rick exhaled a mirthless laugh. “If I was smarter than that, I wouldn’t have gotten myself into this situation in the first place.”

He didn’t take his eyes off the porch, but he heard the creak of Hershel pushing to his feet, felt the warmth of a hand on his back. “There are some things we don’t get to know until it’s too late. Don’t go beatin’ yourself up about that, Rick. It won’t do you or your kids any good.” Hershel squeezed his shoulder, and Rick leaned into the warm, guiding touch. He wondered if he’d ever feel stable enough to not need the older man’s wisdom. Fourty-four years old and he still felt like a child running to his father. "There are some things that are worth the risk. Lord knows that it feels more and more like everything's a risk. But you've gotta know what's worth the risk and what isn't. I'm not gonna tell you what to do, Rick, but I will say this- I don't think goin' off on your own is the right call."

Rick nodded, swallowing thickly. Hershel's cane nudged his good leg.

“Come inside. Carl and Maggie are makin’ supper. It’s spaghetti Tuesday.”

* * *

Even though the spaghetti and homemade garlic bread were delicious, Rick found himself picking at his food, fork winding into the pasta just to let it unravel. He only managed a couple bites when Carl or Judith looked his way, and each forkful sat in his belly like a stone.

“Not hungry?” Maggie asked quietly while Glenn and Carl cleared the dishes. Rick shook his head, glancing furtively over at Judith, who was completely absorbed in the slice of pound cake Beth had served her.

“Not really,” he admitted. He needed to eat, but his insides felt queasy and unsettled. “I’m just glad to see the kids are eatin’.”

Maggie frowned. “Their daddy needs to eat, too. Ain’t any good to them if you make yourself sick, Rick.”

“I’m not trying to. Just…I don’t feel right. Bein’ here, doin’ nothing. Feels like I’m sittin’ on a grenade waitin’ for it to go off.”

“You said you have a friend that’s keepin’ you updated, right?”

Rick nodded. Michonne had been sending him regular texts since he’d left, keeping him updated on the search for Negan, but there hadn’t been much to tell. “Yeah. Not much to update me on, though.” He’d been counting the minutes, the hours since they’d left, calculating how long it would take Negan to catch up to them. _If he figured it out and got Hershel’s address, he could be on his way here right now. He could be pulling up the driveway-_

Maggie’s hand covered Rick’s own on the tabletop, her green eyes deep and troubled and loving. “You’re gonna be alright, Rick. Carl and Judith are gonna be alright. If I know anything about you, it’s that you wouldn’t let anything bad happen to them.”

Rick closed his eyes, guilt hammering against his ribs with every heartbeat. _I already did by letting Negan into our lives._

* * *

By some small mercy, Carl and Judith fell right to sleep not long after the sun had set. They had to be exhausted from all the driving, and Rick was thankful for it- they deserved the peace sleep would hopefully bring them.

Rick, on the other hand, was trying desperately to fight the heaviness of his eyelids, phone in hand and waiting for Michonne to text him. He’d paced the house four times already, checking the locks on the doors and windows and drawing the curtains so that nobody could see inside.

 _We should have rented a car_ , Rick thought wildly. _If Negan comes here and sees my car- or we could have…_

Rick woke with a jolt, utterly disoriented and immediately blinded by the white light of his phone screen. He sat bolt upright in bed, heart hammering in his chest, and the only thing that eased his mind was seeing his children still sleeping soundly beside him, oblivious to his panic.

He glanced down at the phone in his hand- four thirty-seven am. _I fell asleep._

He rubbed his eyes and squinted at the screen _. One missed call from Michonne_. Rick’s stomach twisted like someone had plunged a hand into his guts and was trying to wring them out. _Fuck, fuck-_ With shaky fingers, he tried to type in his passcode, but he was trembling so bad that his fingers slipped. _I fell asleep, I fucking fell asleep and he could be here now, he could be in this house-_

The phone buzzed to life, Michonne’s caller id popping up, and Rick hastily answered it. “Michonne?” he whispered, quietly slipping out of bed. He instantly regretted it- the moment he mistakenly put weight on his bad leg, he hissed through his teeth and had to smother a grunt of pain into his forearm.

“ _Rick?_ ” Michonne sounded terrified, frantic, and Rick felt the world begin to spin out from under him. _Oh, god, oh god, he’s coming here-_

“Rick, are you alright? What’s wrong?”

He managed to grab one of the crutches in the dark and hobbled out of the bedroom so he wouldn’t wake Carl or Judith. “I’m fine- my leg. I’m alright. What’s going on?” It had to be something dire if she was calling him this late.

“Are you still at the Greene’s?”

Rick swore he heard something down the hallway creak.

“Yeah,” he answered, voice tight and terrified.

“They found his car. It was abandoned on the side of the road and state troopers called it in. In North Carolina, about a mile north of the Georgia border.”

If Rick had eaten dinner, it would have been coming back up about now. “When- when did they find it? How long ago-”

“An hour to two, maybe. I called as soon as I found out. Guess they ran the plates and saw he had a warrant out.”

An hour or two. At least. Which meant he had to be getting close, assuming he’d dumped his car and found another. Goddammit, he should have left after dinner, Hershel’s advice be damned. He’d much rather face Negan one-on-one rather than somewhere the man could get to his family.

“Rick? Talk to me.”

Unable to stand any longer, Rick sank to the floor, shirt rucking up as he slid down against the wall. “Yeah. Thank you for callin’ me. I know it’s late.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to calm down enough to figure out his next move.  “You alright? Andre, he’s okay?”

“Yeah. We’re both fine. We’re safe. I’m a little more worried about you right now. What are you going to do?”

“I…” he blinked rapidly, eyes adjusting to the pitch black of the house. He thought he saw something flutter in the corner of the living room- curtains. It was the curtains under the air vent. “I don’t know. I don’t fucking know, Michonne, I’m- I’m scared out of my mind.” He laughed a quiet, mirthless laugh, his voice trembling. “I’m so scared he’s gonna come here. I shouldn’t have- I should have stayed at home. Made sure he didn’t leave…fuck, I panicked, I didn’t know what the hell to do and now he’s coming here. Where my family is, my kids and Hershel’s kids and- _fuck_. All the shit I put him through, and now I come runnin’ here like a scared little boy and put his whole family in danger.”

“ _Rick_.”

“I don’t know if I should leave. Draw him away…but what if he comes here anyway? What if I leave and he-” his voice cracked, a lump forming in his throat. _What if I leave and he comes here and hurts them to get to me? To keep me from going to the cops again?_

“Rick, don’t do anything stupid. Stupid gets you killed.”

A sudden sharp, piercingly loud bark broke the fragile silence in the house, startling Rick so badly that he dropped his phone and it clattered to the floor. For a long, terrifying moment, he was so petrified with fear that he couldn’t move as Roxy kept barking her head off in the next room where his children slept.

“ _Rick? Rick, what’s going on?_ ”

He didn’t even register Michonne’s muffled voice on the other line trying to reach out to him- all he could hear was Roxy barking and Judith’s confused crying as she woke up. He scrambled to his feet and grabbed the crutch, practically falling over himself to get back into the room and get to his children.

Carl was pulling Judith into his arms, trying to hush her. He’d turned the lamp on to see, and the light was so bright that Rick had to squint. “Dad, what’s- why’s she doing that?”

Rick’s eyes followed Carl’s to where Roxy stood, her tail arched and ears back while she snarled at the curtained window.

_He’s out there._

Rick tugged Carl up gently by the arm, urging him to his feet. “Take your sister and go upstairs, alright? _Quietly_. Get everyone and stay quiet. Lock the doors. _Barricade_ the doors.” He glanced at Roxy, who was pacing the room nervously. "Take Roxy, too." _For protection_ , he thought, but he didn't want to say it aloud and scare Judith more than he already had. 

Carl’s eyes widened. “Dad-”

Roxy barked once again, sharp enough to make Judith start whimpering again. Rick looked to his son with desperate eyes. “Carl, _please_. Go now, and call the cops.”

Carl went, still trying to soothe Judith as he rushed up the stairs with Roxy at his heels. As soon as he heard him reach the landing, he moved, rooting through drawers to find something, anything to use as a weapon and coming up empty. 

_The kitchen- a knife-_

There was a noise in the hallway, and Rick's heart stopped beating for a moment before he saw the source- his phone, glowing bright as the north star and ringing loudly as it vibrated across the floor. He limped toward it, breathing hard through his nose, thinking that Michonne had called back, and answered it without a second thought. 

The voice on the other line, deep and mocking, was the last thing he'd hoped to hear. 

" _Hello, lover boy. Did you miss me?_ "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One chapter left!


	13. Adore

Rick’s fingers gripped the smooth plastic of his phone case, sweat gathering at his palms and hairline. His eyes darted back to the window Roxy had been barking at as if expecting to see Negan's face outlined behind the wispy fabric.

“Negan,” he croaked out, his voice rough and dry as sandpaper. He couldn’t bring himself to say more. Instead, he worked against his leaden limbs to make himself inch toward the window, heart racing wildly in his chest.

“Rick,  _baby_.” To Rick’s ears, the pet name sounded like a threat. “Now why’d you have to go runnin’ off into the wild blue yonder, darlin’?” The sound of the floorboards creaking beneath Rick’s weight sounded obscenely loud to his own ears. His fingers hesitated at the edge of the curtain, petrified he would pull it back and come face-to-face with the man he'd been running from. “It was an awful long fucking drive to get down here, you know? I don’t appreciate having to come all this way just to lay my eyes on you. Especially after that nasty scratch you gave me.” Negan’s tone was that of someone talking down to a disobedient child, and it rankled Rick enough to make him yank back the curtain, sending the fabric fluttering.

There was nothing outside. No pale face lurking in the window, no dangerous eyes there to lock onto Rick’s own. He breathed a shaky sigh of relief and stumbled to the bedside table to switch the lamp off. The less Negan could see inside the house, the better.

“Rick? You got anything to say for yourself?”

The fucking  _gall_  of him. “You know, considerin’ what you did to my leg, I’d say you got off easy,” Rick bit out as he used one crutch to hobble slowly into the hallway. There were no lights on upstairs, and he couldn’t hear any movement. Good, that meant that the others had heeded his warnings. God willing, it meant they’d been able to call the police as well.

“Shit, I…” the tone of Negan’s voice nearly made Rick do a double-take. At once, all the condescension and threat drained out, replaced with the concerned, doting tone that he’d taken with Rick so many times before. “Are you okay? Your leg, is it…? I didn’t hurt you too bad did I, baby? I didn’t mean to-  _fuck_. I was just so fuckin’ scared, Rick, I thought you were gonna leave me for all the shit I pulled, and I- I fucking snapped. I’ve been thinking about you nonstop since you left me in that kitchen, you know that?” Rick couldn’t believe him, couldn’t believe that he was really going to play the role of the contrite lover after all that had gone down between them. It was absurd, insane.

As he listened to Negan’s apologetic ramblings, Rick made his way through the house as quietly as he could. His eyes adjusted slowly to the pitch darkness, just enough that he could weave between couches and tables without knocking anything over. Surely Negan wasn’t inside the house. He would have heard him speaking…and he doubted that Negan would be able to resist descending upon him if he was within range. No, for now, they had walls between them, and Rick planned on keeping it that way.

“Rick, please just tell me you’re alright. I’m so fucking sorry that I hurt you, baby. I am. I keep hearing that noise you made when I- and the crack.  _Fuck_. Fuck, Rick, please-”

“I’m fine,” Rick lied. Better to let him think that he was whole and able to fight him off. “Just a sprain.”

Either Negan was truly that gullible, or he just wanted that badly to believe that he hadn’t caused Rick any permanent harm. “That’s good. That’s- shit, I’m glad. I never would’ve forgiven myself if I’d hurt you like that, Rick.”

Rick finally reached the kitchen, his crutch bumping the counter as he rooted through the drawers to find a knife.

“I’d like it if we could talk, Rick. Just you and me.” Rick’s fingers curled around the hilt of a short, sharp kitchen knife.  _Just in case_ , he thought. The thought of actually  _using_  it, even now...he didn't want to consider it. 

“We’re talkin’ right now.” Surely he didn’t think Rick was stupid enough to come to him?

“Face to face. I want to fucking  _see_  you, Rick. I don’t think I’ve gone a day without seein’ you in months.”

A snarl ripped out of Rick’s throat despite his attempts to keep calm. “Yeah, I bet, considerin’ you’ve been stalking me. Put fucking cameras in my home. Tracked me all over the goddamned city. Must be so fuckin’  _hard_  for you to not be able to follow my every move.”

Negan was quiet for a long moment. Rick peered out the window over the sink into the inky blackness of the land surrounding the farmhouse. He couldn’t trust his eyes, every shadow seemed to dance and creep closer if he stared too long. He blinked hard and turned his gaze to the floor.

“I am sorry about all of that, Rick. You need to understand- I didn’t go in planning to do that. I- there’s something fucking  _wrong_  with me. You know what I did to Lucille. She didn’t even know me like you, she…she was just fucking  _there_  and I…I latch onto people. I’m like a goddamned leech, and I suck and suck until there’s nothing left.” Negan’s voice shook. “I don’t want to lose you.”

 _Too fucking late for that_ , Rick thought.

“You can help me, Rick. You can fix me, I know you can. I want to be better. For you, for your kids. I want us to be the family I know we were meant to be. From the first day I met you, hell, the first second I laid eyes on you, Rick, I knew you were special.” It sounded like Negan was moving. Rick could hear the definite  _crunch_  of dry leaves on the other line, the sound speeding up like he was running. There was a flicker of something outside the window, and Rick stumbled backward, flattening himself against the cabinets. He wanted to sink to the ground and cower beneath the table, somewhere Negan couldn’t spot him from outside, but he was worried that he wouldn’t be able to stand again if he did.

When Negan spoke again, he was out of breath and the footsteps had stopped. “Do you believe in soulmates, Rick?”

With a shuddering sigh, Rick closed his eyes. He thought of Lori- how he’d felt drawn to her the day they’d met, how well they’d worked together. Even during the couple years later in their marriage when they’d had problems, that love and loyalty had never gone away, even when they’d fought and gone to bed angry. They’d said some horrible, cruel things to each other in the throes of anger and hurt, things Rick feared they’d never be able to heal from…but they did. It took time, it took effort and communication, which had never come naturally to him, but they had come back together stronger. Judith hadn’t been planned, but her conception had been so perfectly timed after their reconciliation that it had seemed like a sign that they were meant to be together.

After Lori had passed away, Rick had been sure that the romantic part of his life was over. He’d been so positive that she was the only one he could ever love like that. his soulmate, though he never used that word. When healing had come, he had begun to question that. Loving another person didn’t diminish his love for Lori. Maybe there wasn’t just one person out there for him after all. Maybe there was still a chance for him to care about someone again.

Except the person he’d come to love hadn’t been someone worth loving.

“I…I don’t know,” Rick whispered, too gutted by the question to lie.

“I do,” Negan replied. “And you? You’re  _mine_ , Rick.”

Out of the dead silence came the sound of a doorknob jiggling. Rick sucked in a hard breath as he watched the knob of back door out of the kitchen move and shake violently, just a couple of yards from where he stood.

“I know you’re in there, Rick. I saw you. I’d bet my right nut that you saw me, too.” Rick could feel beads of sweat dripping down his neck and soaking into the collar of his t-shirt. “Why don’t you be a good little pig and let me in?”

Rick gripped the plastic hilt of the knife with trembling fingers as he watched the doorknob stop shaking.

“This is the kitchen, right? I bet you’ve got a knife.” Rick swallowed hard, sweat dripping from his sodden curls down into his eyes. “You gonna gut me, Rick? Is that how you want me to go? My fuckin’ insides spilling out in your hands? Or are you just gonna start stabbing until I go still? You gonna try to make me scream for you?” He let loose a cold, mirthless laugh that Rick could hear through both the phone and the door. “Honey, if you wanted that, I can think of an easier way.”

“This isn’t gonna end well for you, Negan,” Rick gritted out. “There’s no scenario here where you get what you want.”

“Is that a threat, baby?” Negan laughed. “Is it wrong that that’s really fuckin’ hot?” Rick tamped down a noise of disgust. “And I don’t think you know what I want, Rick.”

“I know exactly what you want.”

“No, you don’t.” Negan’s voice had a wistful edge to it. “You think I’m the big bad fuckin’ wolf here to blow your house down and eat you alive. You think I’m some monster that’s trying to keep you locked up all to himself. But that’s not how it is, Rick. Please, let me tell you.”

And there it was- that sweet, persuasive side of Negan that came out when he needed it most, trying to draw Rick in like a fly to honey. It was the voice that had said,  _please let me take care of you, please let me treat you like you deserve, let me spoil you and your kids and remind you of how good it feels to be touched_ so many times throughout their relationship.It was the bait he had cast out the first time they met and all the times after leading up to that one fateful night that Negan had taken things too far, and Rick had fallen for it once already. Negan was banking on it working again.

“What do you want, then?” Rick whispered.

There was a sharp rap on the door, then three to follow. Each one sent a chill down Rick’s spine, goosebumps breaking out on his clammy skin. The sound echoed through the phone, a moment behind reality. “Open up and let me tell you.”

Rick snarled through his teeth. “If you think I’m gonna fucking let you  _in_ -”

Negan laughed again, the sound harsh and grating to Rick’s ears, but that wasn’t the most chilling thing he was hearing. There was the  _clunk-drag_  of the deadbolt being forced back into its chamber, followed by the turn of the doorknob, now unencumbered by the lock.

“Oh,  _Rick_ ,” Negan purred into his ear. The door slowly creaked open, one familiar leather-gloved hand resting on the handle. The line went dead in Rick’s ear, but the deep voice continued, pouring poisonously into the silent kitchen. “You didn’t  _really_  think that I couldn’t get in, did you?”

* * *

 Negan lingered right outside the back door, waiting patiently as he could manage. The last thing he wanted to do was startle Rick by lunging like a beast of prey on a wounded deer. No, he was trying to build trust, and he couldn’t do that if he had to chase Rick down. It was the same reason he'd kept his lockpicking skills to himself up until now- catching Rick off-guard and confronting him directly would surely end the same way it had back in Virginia. He knew better now.

“Come out, come out,” he crooned, beckoning with one long finger in the open doorway. “I fuckin’  _know_  you’d rather me be out here than in there where your kiddos are.”

There was a threat there, thinly veiled. It was one Negan hoped he wouldn’t have to follow through on- there was no way in heaven or hell that Rick would forgive him if something happened to one of his kids. Those were the big guns, pulled out only if Rick continued to be difficult. If all went well tonight, he’d be sure to explain to Rick that he never intended to hurt Carl or Judith. Sometimes people just needed a little incentive. With Rick, it was too easy to exploit his obvious weak points when it came to the people he loved.

The silence unnerved him, wore away at his tenuous patience. He whistled a long, two-note tone to remind Rick that he was waiting, and in response he heard heavy, limping footsteps making their way toward him.

It was a moment of pure joy when Rick finally stepped into view, looking harrowed and sweat-sodden but otherwise just as stunning as the first day they’d met. He leaned heavily on one crutch, and Negan felt a surge of guilt.  _Just a sprain_ , he reminded himself.  _I didn’t hurt him. I must have imagined the crack. I would never have hurt him like that._

He reached out, frowning when Rick flinched back so hard that he bumped into the door frame. “Rick,” he scolded gently, “don’t do that. C’mon now, baby. I’m not gonna hurt you.” He didn’t like that fucking look Rick had on his face- it was cruel and untrusting and it cut deep. It made him want to grab the shorter man by the shoulders and shake him hard until he understood that he didn’t have anything to be afraid of as long as he fucking  _behaved_ , but he eased back instead.  _Let him come to you_. “You wanna come out here? Looks like you could stand to get off your feet.” He gestured to the chairs set up on the back porch, the leaves dusted off of them from recent use.

Rick’s face was iron, his posture rigid. “I’m fine.” Honestly, it was impossible to tell if he was lying when he got like this, so reserved and closed off. All those months Negan had spent trying to break down the man’s walls, and within the span of a day they’d been bricked back up. He made his way down the trio of steps leading from the back porch down into the the yard where Negan stood. He hovered a safe distance away, out of arm’s reach. Negan had to close the gap between them, had to feel the warmth of Rick's body against his one more time...but he held still, biding his time.

“I fucked up,” Negan admitted. “There’s no way around that. But you need to understand, Rick- the only reason I did the shit I did was because I love you. I know that seems fucking-”

“Insane?” Rick supplied. His shoulders were tense and squared up, his blue eyes blazing like the heart of a flame. “Yeah, it does. You followed me,  _stalked_  me-”

“I know what I did!” Negan shouted. It was a mistake, of course- Rick jerked back like he’d been burned by Negan’s rage, and Negan had to take a deep breath to steady his nerves before speaking again. “I’m sorry. I know what I did- I fucking  _know_. I acted like a goddamned crazy person. And while I was doing it, I was thinking,  _why the hell are you doing this? You’re an idiot, you’re going to drive him away_.” He chuckled humorlessly and ran a hand over his unshaven face. “And I was right about that part, at least. Everything I did behind your back…I thought it could just stay that way forever. That eventually I wouldn’t need it, because you’d be in my bed every night. So I thought, what’s the harm? What’s the harm in me knowing where you go? In wanting to see you on the nights we’re apart?”

“It’s an invasion of my privacy,” Rick growled dangerously. He was positively glowing in the white moonlight, his damp curls glistening, chest heaving, shirt clinging invitingly to his firm, full chest. “It’s you tryin' to control me.”

Negan closed his eyes, tried to remain calm.  _Don’t rise to the fight. He’s angry- let him get it out. You deserve some of it, at least._

“Alright. I’ll give you that, it was. But do you know  _why_  I did it, Rick?” He met the man’s eyes imploringly, gratified when Rick didn’t look away. “It was because I was afraid. I was so, so fucking afraid of losing you. You were the first good thing that had happened to me in a long time, Rick. For so long after Lucille…” he swallowed his pride and forced out the words, “after what I did to Lucille, I tried to isolate myself. I thought I deserved it, and hell, maybe I did. I couldn’t handle the kind of passion that came with being in love, and other people couldn’t handle the way I loved them. So I shut myself away in some sleepy little neighborhood, resigned myself to a life alone. I wasn’t happy, I wasn’t even content, but I wasn’t hurting anyone. If you don’t believe anything else, Rick, please just fucking believe that I never  _wanted_  to hurt you.”

Maybe he was imagining it, but he swore he saw a flicker of something soft behind Rick’s eyes. Sympathy, maybe. Or pity. Either one was better than the cold look he’d been giving Negan since he stepped outside.

“I don’t know what you want from me, Negan.” Weariness was etched deeply into Rick’s voice, and for the first time, Negan saw the purple, bruise-like crescents beneath Rick’s eyes.  _Exhausted_ , he realized. He looked like Negan had been slowly draining the life from him.

Negan swayed toward Rick, the crunch of dry autumn leaves punctuating each step. Rick didn’t move, didn’t so much as twitch a finger away from Negan as he neared. He let him get toe-to-toe, Negan’s hand covering his, their breath mingling in the cool air. “What I want,” Negan whispered, thumb stroking over the silver band on Rick’s left hand, “is to show you that I can be good for you. It’ll take time to forgive me, to trust me. I understand that. But I fucking  _love_  you, Rick. You’re the only thing on this whole goddamned planet that I love. I’d burn the fucking world for you just to prove it, but I know you’re not the kind of man to want that.” He laced his fingers between Rick’s pliant ones, a hopeful thrill thrumming like a hummingbird in his chest. Rick’s expression was complex, unreadable, but there was something there, something other than hatred and fear, he knew it. He reached out tentatively, cupping Rick’s cheek as gently as if he was made of glass. He cursed himself for wearing his gloves. More than anything, he wanted to feel Rick’s warm skin against his. “Let me show you,” he pleaded.

Rick’s breath was a warm cloud between them as it shivered out of his lungs. He pressed his face into Negan’s palm, and Negan felt like his chest was going to burst.

“Alright,” Rick whispered. His eyes fluttered closed, dark lashes fanning against the shadows beneath his lids, and Negan leaned in slowly, giving him time to pull away…but he didn’t.

Their lips met, chapped and cold, but Negan couldn’t care less. He felt Rick’s crutch clatter to the ground among the fallen leaves, his icy fingers drawing down the side of Negan’s face from his temple to his cheekbone, caressing him.  _Mine_ , he thought, nearly mad with the relief of it,  _he’s mine, he’s really all fucking-_

There was a sudden, jarring sting against his throat like he’d cut himself shaving. At first, he thought that maybe that was it- he could feel Rick’s hand there, maybe he’d just rubbed against a nick in his skin…but then the pain grew, occluding the cold and the feeling of Rick’s lips against his own, and he felt something warm and wet pouring down the front of his shirt beneath his jacket. Horrified and shocked, his eyes snapped open to see Rick standing in front of him with that cold, blank look back on his face. Negan grasped at his throat, panicking when he felt the slick wetness of blood there, flooding over his gloved fingers.

“Y-you…” His vision clouded at the edges, framing Rick’s pale, lovely face. “Fucking  _loved_  you-” Negan choked out. Pain shot up his knees as his legs gave out, and then Rick was hovering over him. His chest felt tight and heavy like he was trying to breathe underwater, and as he began to float away, he heard Rick’s voice one last time.

_“You don’t know what love is.”_

* * *

Red and blue lights flashed against the white trim of the farmhouse, the color dizzying. Rick kept his eyes on Carl and Judith, who were huddled close beneath a blanket that Maggie had draped protectively over Carl’s shoulders.

 _Safe_ , he kept repeating to himself.  _They’re safe._

In the distance, he saw cops swarming like ants around where it had happened. A glint of metal, and the bloodied kitchen knife was sealed away in an evidence bag. Rick made the mistake of glancing down at his own hands and immediately felt ill. He closed his eyes, trying to breathe deeply and erase the image of dark, dried blood coating his fingers.

_You did what you had to do to keep yourself and your family safe._

He couldn’t account for himself. Alright, that was what he'd told Negan to keep him from getting violent again. Just to keep him at bay until the police arrived. The knife had been tucked safely away in the back pocket of his jeans, but he hadn't though he would need it. He just knew that the second Negan’s lips closed over his own, he’d snapped.  _Not again_ , he’d thought, and it was as if his body had reacted for him.

Why he’d followed Negan to the ground and pressed his hands to the wound in man’s throat as he’d spluttered and bled out in the dry leaves, he couldn’t say. There hadn’t been a coherent thought in his head, but some part of him hadn’t wanted to see the life leave Negan’s eyes. Not there, in Hershel’s yard where he had so many happy memories. Not by his own hand.

Later, as he’d watched Negan get carted away in an ambulance to be sewn up, he wondered if that had been a grave mistake. People don’t get put away for life on stalking charges. If he was wise, he would have finished the job now, while he still could.

“Dad!”

Rick’s eyes fluttered open to see Carl running toward him, Judith in his arms. Instinctively, Rick stood and flung his arms open, sending the blanket that one of the EMTs had tucked around him fluttering to the ground. Pain ricocheted up his ruined leg, but he ignored it, instead folding his children into his arms and burying his face into Carl’s long hair to breathe in that familiar, homey smell.

“’S alright, Carl. Hey.” He felt the tremor that run beneath Carl’s skin. “It’s all gonna be alright.”

“When I heard the ambulance- I thought you were…” Carl shuddered and sniffled, so unlike his usual tough-as-nails teenage self, and Rick felt his heart break all over again. He hadn't seen Carl cry in months, and the last tears he'd shed had been for his mother.

“I’m okay. I’m sorry, Carl, I’m so-” tears blurred Rick's vision, wetting his cheeks and making his throat thick.  _Goddammit, not now_. “I’m sorry. We’re gonna be okay now. We’re safe.”

* * *

  **Epilogue- Eight Months Later**

“I like the new cut. Makes you look dignified.” Michonne grinned over her coffee and reached out to rub one hand over the short fuzz of Rick’s hair. It had been an impulse decision one night that he couldn't sleep and he’d realized he hadn’t had a haircut since the last time Lori had cut it nearly two years ago. He’d only meant to trim it up a little, but twenty minutes later, he had shorn all of his curls, leaving him with hair shorter than what he’d had when he was a newbie in the police academy. He smiled shyly, hoping his cheeks weren’t growing too pink.

“You sayin’ I looked undignified before?” he teased.

“I never said that,” Michonne replied smoothly, her warm eyes dancing with humor. “I still think the beard’s a little much, though.”

Rick drew his fingers over his beard, which was, admittedly, the bushiest it had ever been. He liked it, though. It was a change. “You just like me when I’m all smooth and baby-faced.”

Michonne smiled. “Guilty as charged.” She tipped her head toward the backyard, where Carl was spinning Judith and Andre on the tire swing Rick had set up on a sturdy tree branch. Each time he let them go and they went flying in circles, they shrieked with laughter and Rick felt his heart swell with adoration. Roxy had learned to allow such merriment after she figured out that Judith and Andre’s cries were those of joy, and was basking lazily in the grass nearby, worn out from chasing tennis balls and frisbees all day. “It seems like they’re getting back to normal.”

Rick nodded. “Yeah. They bounce back fast, thank god. Especially Judith. I was worried for a while there that she was gonna be havin’ nightmares forever.”

He’d done his best to shield his children from the ensuing chaos that came with taking Negan to court. He’d fought tooth and nail to try to keep Carl from having to testify, but in the end, his son had insisted and kept completely calm under cross-examination. Rick didn’t think it was possible to be more proud of the man he was growing into.

“I was worried you weren’t gonna come back,” Michonne admitted. “After everything. I wouldn’t have blamed you. It must be…strange. Still living next door to his house.”

Rick sipped his coffee and sighed. “It was at first. Still is sometimes. There are days I’ll half-expect to see him walkin' down the driveway to get his mail.” There were some days that every knock at the door petrified him, every creak of floorboards or shadow in the corner of the room made his heart race. Not a day went by that he didn’t check beneath his bed before going to sleep.  _Like a kid scared of the damn boogeyman._  “It’s been hard all around, but I didn’t want to move again. The kids like it here.  _I_  like it here.” He reached across the table and covered Michonne’s hand with his own, giving it a small squeeze.

She smiled that bright, radiant smile that always made him feel safe- a goddamned miracle these days. “Well, I’m glad. I would have missed Carl and Judith,” she teased, squeezing his hand back.

Rick chuckled and nudged her foot beneath the table with his own good one. “They would have missed you, too.”

Michonne glanced down at her phone and groaned before pushing to her feet. “Damn, it’s past eight. I can’t ever tell the time during the summer. We probably ought to get out of your…hair.” She grinned and tugged playfully at his beard. Rick definitely felt his cheeks growing warm now. He watched as she descended the porch steps into the yard to collect Andre, immediately greeted by Roxy. The dog loped after Michonne, following close at her heels in hopes of getting a scratch between the ears.

 _Content_. It was strange to think he could ever be that again, but as he looked out at his kids and Michonne and Andre, Rick felt content. Happy, even. 

On the small patio table, beside his nearly-empty coffee cup, Rick’s phone buzzed to life. His heart skipped a beat for a moment- he still got jumpy at the strangest things from time to time. He shook the feeling off and frowned at the screen.  _Unknown Number_. Probably the same wrong number from this morning that had been looking for a Mr. Bob Stookey. 

He tapped the answer button, prepared to let them know that  _no, there’s no Bob here_ , and the moment he did, his stomach sank.

The voice on the other line was familiar, deep and rough and striking fear right into Rick’s core despite knowing there were dozen of miles and steel bars between them.

“ _Rick Grimes_ ,” Negan purred into his ear, “oh, how I’ve fucking missed you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here we are at the end! This story has been a ton of fun to write as thrillers and mysteries are my favorite genres, so dipping my toes in the water of writing one has been something new and exciting. First time not ending a long fic with them together, too…I feel like I ought to write something happy now. Thanks so much to everyone who's read and left comments & kudos and enjoyed this, I appreciate you all (even if I'm shitty at consistently replying lmao). I'll leave you with the song inspiration for the title and final chapter, which is [Ava Adore by The Smashing Pumpkins. ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9uWwvQKGjLI)


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